Disclaimer: None needed. These characters are the sole property of the author. This story copyrighted the date shown below.

 

The MacChoate

November 8, 2009

 

Dichiollach Castle, Scotland

Late March 1601

 

His right-hand man stood in the shadows and watched as his laird sat brooding by the smoky fire burning in the great stone hearth of the main hall. Dinner had been a disaster yet again, the food barely edible. The stench that rose from the floor threatened to overpower all else. Not that many noticed since the drink flowed freely.

 

Joshua Stillman, the castle laird's second-in-command, shook his head as he remembered how it used to be here at Dichiollach Castle, before the coming of the Sassenach witch.

 

“Is he at it again?”

 

Joshua turned at the softly spoken question. Avery Priest stood behind him. “Aye.”

 

“There must be something we can do.  I cannae stand much more o’ this.”

 

“Ye try talking ta him, then,” Joshua hissed.  “The last time I did, it only earned me a black-eye and a bruised jaw.”

 

Avery shook his head.  “Nay, mon.  I would soon nae, if ye please.  But how long is he going ta brood aboot the witch’s betrayal?  I cannae stand much more o’ this,” he lamented again as his arms made a sweeping gesture of their surroundings.

 

Patrick’s father, the late Laird Oliver Choate, wed his wayward son to the Lady Mary, the ‘witch’ both men spoke of, in hopes of bringing culture to the clan -- and his heir.  The match quickly proved to be a bad one, for although the Lady Mary possessed the dowry and the bloodlines; she also exhibited the morals of a stray cat in a permanent state of ‘heat’.  One man proved not enough for her.  Six months into the marriage Patrick had caught her in the arms of a young stable hand.  In an attempt to escape his wrath, she stolen away in the middle of the night leaving the young man to face his fate alone.

 

Later, cleaning his house of her paramours, nearly a third of the male population of the countryside, young MacChoate learned the woman had also cuckolded him with his bitter enemy, head of a rival clan, Andrew Fergusson. He also learned it was to him she had fled.

 

After that, Paddy lost his will.  Now, they lived in a sty.  And it had been this way for months now.  The clan took heart at the arrival of a cousin from his mother's family.  Although she made no secret of her carnal interests in Paddy, nor of her ambition to become lady of the castle, they had hopes the living conditions would improve with a woman's touch.  Regretfully, after the MacChoate turned the castle management over to Katherine Campbell, the inhabitants of Dichiollach Castle soon learned she was also of loose morals, though not as bad a Lady Mary.  She was lazy, petty, small-minded and a bad steward.  Soon all came to despise her.

 

“I dinnae bóid ‘tis the cailín leaving, Avery.  He never really loved her.  I bóid ‘‘‘tis   betrayal with Andrew.”  Joshua spoke the man's name like a curse.

 

“Well, something must be done, o’ he'll make himself ill.”

 

The slamming of the hall’s main doors interrupted Joshua's reply.  A messenger raced into the hall.  Eager to hear the news, he and Avery rushed forward to their laird’s side.

 

Patrick MacChoate looked up sharply at the intrusion.

 

“Yer pardon, m’laird!” the man said breathlessly.

 

“Aye, Martin?”

 

“The English merchant’s caravan—”

 

Paddy immediately straightened in his chair, setting aside his tankard of ale.  “Aye. ‘tis here?” his laird asked roughly.  “Well, speak up, mon!  We  ‘ad word that fat English merchant was sending it months ago.  We cannae let some other beat us ta so sweet a raiding.”

 

“Outpost sent word ‘‘‘tis   on the eastern border, m’laird.”

 

Paddy breathed deeply, feeling relieved.  “Aye.  Finally.”

 

“They also report sightings o’ scouts from the Fergusson clan.”

 

The MacChoate surged to his feet at the sound of that hated name.  “Fergusson.”

 

The messenger cringed at the look of hatred that clouded Patrick's face.  “Aye,” he whispered hesitantly.

 

“Call the men tagether,” the MacChoate barked to Joshua and Avery.

 

“But, m’laird—”

 

“We cannae let the Fergusson’s beat us ta that caravan, Josh.  Call them!”

 

~~~

 

Fifteen heavily-armed men rode over the hills that formed the boundary between the Fergusson and MacChoate lands.

 

Arriving at the scene, the found the valley below littered with overturned wagons, scattered debris and dead bodies.

 

Those still standing fought a losing battle for their lives.

 

“The MacChoate!” Patrick screamed as he spurred his horse down the side of the hill into the thick of it, sliding his claymore from its scabbard as he rode.

 

~~~

 

Andrew Fergusson failed to hear his enemy’s battle cry.  Totally distracted, he had his hands full battling the small, grey-cloaked figure in front of him.

 

His clan’s forces had come upon the well-stocked caravan thinking them easy prey.  The ten men that staffed the train had shown themselves to be, although not skilled in heavy weapons, the devil’s spawn when it came to fighting with bows, staffs and knives.

 

At this moment, the lass Andrew had thought to claim as his own battled him viciously with a three-foot length of wood as thick around as his wrist.

 

“Drop the staff, cailín. I dinnae mean ye harm,” Andrew crooned as he envisioned the merry romp this fiery creature could provide in his bed.  Sensing his distraction, the small, cloaked figure rewarded this statement with a short jab of the strong piece of wood to Fergusson's stomach.

 

Andrew’s breath expelled from him with a harsh ‘whoosh’ and the shrouded figure once again danced gracefully out of reach.

 

Seriously hurt now, Andrew abandoned his pretense of civility.  “Accursed female!  When I get m’ hands on ye—”

 

“Anyone would creid ye’d ‘ave enough females ta keep ye occupied, Fergusson.”

 

Both looked up as Patrick MacChoate barrelled between them.  Fergusson managed to duck a second before the highlander’s heavy claymore sliced through the air where his head had been.

 

“Whoreson!” Patrick screamed as he swung the sword again, this time in a backward slice.  “Thief!”

 

Andrew threw himself out of the path of the deadly arc, landing in the mud on his backside.  Scrambling backward like a crab out of the way of the warhorse’s hooves, he screamed, “A Fergusson!” at the top of his lungs.  Fully expecting to be surrounded by his men, he clamored to his feet.

 

“They’ve run, Fergusson,” Patrick told him with a laugh as he rested his claymore across the horn of his saddle and leaned forward, “like the cowards they are. Like the coward their laird is.”

 

Andrew looked around him to see his men scampering off in all directions while The MacChoate’s men chased them on horseback. He turned back to his enemy.  “Ye would kill an unarmed man, MacChoate?”

 

“I would kill a cur, Fergusson.” In the flash of an eye, Patrick brought the point of his sword to rest in the center of the man’s chest.  “Ye would kill an unarmed man.”

 

“T’was but a bit o’ sport, MacChoate,” the man said, holding out his arms in a sigh of surrender as he laughed.

 

“Tell that ta the dead,” the man on horseback said as he pushed forward with the sword. “Go scurry, Andrew.  Now, afore I rid the world o’ ye!”

 

Andrew started backing away.  When Paddy stopped advancing, the distance growing between Fergusson and that deadly sword gave him the courage to say defiantly, “T’is nae o’er, MacChoate.”

 

“Nae ‘til yer dead,” Patrick hissed, calming the horse’s restlessness with pressure from his knees.

 

At the look on his enemy’s face, Fergusson made his first wise move of the day, he turned and fled.

 

“T’was a mistake ye made, Paddy," Joshua told him as he rode up beside his laird.

 

"Aye. But he was right.  I wouldnae kill an unarmed man.  Nae even scum like him,” Patrick said as he swung down from the saddle.  “See if anyone still lives, Josh,” he said, pointing to the wounded.  “We will take them back ta Dichiollach.”

 

Stillman swung down too; calling orders to the rest of the men while his leader judiciously approached the small figure.

 

“Ye ‘ave nae need ta fear.  We are here ta help,” Patrick said softly, as if gentling a startled lamb.  “Did he hurt ye, cailín?”

 

Covered from head to foot in the coarse, grey hooded cloak held the staff like a lifeline.  Because of the size, highlander expected nothing like what followed.  With lightning speed, the stout piece of wood came down sharply on MacChoate’s foot.  “T’anam an Diabhal!” the highlander screamed as he released the reins of his horse and grabbed his foot with one hand, the staff with the other.

 

The tiny figure pulled back on the heavy stick; seeing it could not be budged from the angry man’s hand, dropped it and turned to run.

 

Anticipating the culprit’s flight, MacChoate released his foot to snag the hem of the flowing robe and pulled.  With a loud rip, the fabric came away in his hands.  “What in the name o’—” Paddy breathed as he watched the figure racing frantically up the hill in amazement.  “‘Tis fireannach,” MacChoate said in wonder.

 

Joshua and Avery turned to watch the receding figure with amusement.

 

“Nay,” Joshua laughed.  “Too small for a male.  Perhaps an acharradh.”

 

“Ye want me ta go after him?” Avery chuckled at the expression on his laird’s face.  “’Tis said there’s great luck if you can catch one.”

 

“Nay, I will,” Patrick said, swinging up into the saddle of his great warhorse as he murmured, “a bloody acharradh I am chasing.”

 

It proved to be less of a chase as a sprint for the warhorse.  The MacChoate caught up with the fleeing form in a scant few minutes.  Grabbing him by the collar of the shirt he wore, Patrick lifted him easily and flung him face down across his saddle.  The force of the smaller man’s landing momentarily knocking the wind from the prone form, but, as soon as he recovered, Patrick’s captive began to kick wildly.

 

“Stay still, droch sióg!” he ordered sharply as he wrapped an anchoring arm around the tiny bundle and spurred his horse back in the direction they had come.

 

“I see ye caught him,” Joshua said, laughing as the big man rode back into their midst.

 

Paddy unceremoniously dumped his cargo at his horse’s hooves.  “Aye,” he growled as he swung down to the ground, landing lightly on his feet.

 

The diminutive figure gazed up at them with hate-filled eyes while Patrick took a look at his captive.

 

Smooth, pale golden skin unmarred by facial hair stretched across high cheekbones that accentuated a heart-shaped, pixie face.  Leaning down to get a better look, Paddy found almond-shaped eyes, the color of the Highlands in summer, looking back at him. Full, rich lips beneath a delicate nose, resisted being tightened into an angry thin line.

 

The MacChoate’s breath caught in his chest, his heart suddenly pounding as he felt this flesh begin to heat.  Why would he react this way just from the sight of this fey being? Surely he  ‘ad been bewitched!  “C’ainm a tha ort?” he whispered, fighting the trembling of his soul.  At the little man’s puzzled expression, Paddy repeated in heavily accented English, “Who are ye?”

 

“My name is Justin of the House of Evers!  And I’d thank you to release me!” the elfin figure demanded angrily.

 

Patrick reached down and roughly stood him on his feet.  “Are ye part o’ this caravan?”

 

Justin looked around at the havoc the first band of barbarians had wreaked.  He had left London with ten well-chosen men and eight wagons heavy-laden with goods.  One wagon lay in ruins, several others overturned, their contents scattered.  The men lay dead, dying, or had fled the area.  Tartan-clad males were working to round up the scattered, frightened horses.  “I own this caravan,” Evers said arrogantly.

 

The three men standing before him said nothing, but the look they gave him made their disbelief very clear.

 

“Ye look hardly out o’ the nursery, buachaill,” Avery told him with an amused expression on his face.  “I dinnae creid ye own much more than the clothes on yer back.”

 

The smaller man turned red.  “I’ll have you know I’m almost twenty-one years old!”

 

Paddy laughed.  “Twenty-one in three summers, I would guess.”

 

Justin's blush deepened, but he didn’t deny the accusation.  “I’m my father’s representative!  We were traveling to Edinburgh to set up a new shop!  I’ll thank you to gather what’s left of my merchandise, and we’ll be on our way.”

 

“We?” the dark-haired giant who was their leader, asked with amusement.  “And who is this ‘we’?  Those o’ yer troupe that werenae killed, ‘ave scurried away.  Ye are alone, droch sióg.”

 

Justin looked around again. “Well, if you could spare a few men to drive the wagons . . .”

 

The dark-haired giant shook his head.  “I am sorry, Justin,” he said, pronouncing the name ‘Joos-teen’.  “But yer caravan ‘tis the property o’ m’ clan now.”

 

“Your . . .” Justin’s eyes grew wide.  “You can’t do that.  That’s stealing!”

 

“Nay.  We but found these things scattered aboot the ground,” Joshua told him, his eyes sparkling with merriment.  “We ‘ave claimed them fer our own.”

 

“And that includes you, acharradh,” Paddy said amused at Justin’s expression.

 

“MacChoate!”

 

Paddy looked up at his clansman’s shout, but, before he could answer, a searing prick of pain blossomed in his hand and he released his grip on the sprite’s arm.  Looking down, he saw the imp holding a long, thin blade in his hand.  “Damnú ort!! Ci dhomh fhéin an sgian!” the MacChoate exclaimed as he struck the tiny man’s wrist holding the weapon. The knife went flying off into the grass.  Cursing his inattentiveness, he advanced upon the smaller male.  “What other manner o’ weapons do ye  ‘ave on ye, droch sióg?” he asked menacingly.

 

Before Justin could run again, MacChoate gripped him by the sleeve and pulled him close.  For a moment, the highlander found himself falling into the deep well of emerald-green eyes, their dark depths colored darker with fear.  Breaking the connection, Patrick grabbed the hem of the smaller man's shirt.  Yanking it unceremoniously over his captive's head, he then quickly dispatched Evers of all his other garments, leaving him naked and shivering in the cool air.

 

The tiny man never had a chance to draw a full breath before he found himself standing in the midst of rough barbarians naked in all his glory.  Evers cupped both hands over his privates.  He gaped helplessly at the giant who had stripped him and wondered just what absence of mind had caused him to use his eating knife to stab this two-legged beast.  From the look on the face of the man called MacChoate’s face, he knew he would die now and painfully at this heathen’s hands.

 

The wound was not deep or painful, but it pricked his pride that it had happened at all. Patrick seriously thought of throttling the scamp before him.  He took a step forward, intent on exacting retribution for the attack when he stopped at the gasp from the men behind him.  Angry red haze clearing from his eyes, the MacChoate finally took a hard look at his prisoner.

 

The fey creature appeared glorious.  Not as tall as a man, but taller than a child, he was young . . . and beautiful, exquisitely formed and golden as the sun.  The skin looked as smooth as silk, the only hint of body hair starting below his navel and around his privates.  Battling a surge of lust so strong it threatened to take his breath away, Paddy eyed the young man from the tips of each tiny toe to the top of the most magnificent head of hair Paddy had ever seen on a male or a female.  Jet black, the thick locks were pulled away from the face and secured in a heavy braid that fell down Evers’ back.

 

“By the ancient Druids,” Joshua breathed.  “Ye ‘ave caught a fairy!”

 

Paddy looked around him. All his men had stopped what they were doing to look at the young man who stood naked, trembling with the cold and anger before him.

 

Quickly undoing the sizeable brooch at his shoulders, Patrick whipped off his heavy tartan, hastily wrapped the angry figure in it like a yuletide gift.

 

“Back ta yer tasks, men!” he barked as he strode to his horse.

 

Throwing his package across the saddle, he swung up behind.  “Bring everything ye can salvage. I am going back ta the castle.”  And he kicked the horse’s flanks to spur him into flight.

 

Avery and Joshua looked at their laird’s retreating form.

 

“What t’was that aboot?” Avery asked, puzzled at the MacChoate’s antics.

 

“I dinnae ken,” Joshua laughed, “but it looks ta be a lively spring.” he said with a nod. “Aye.”

 

~~~~~~

 

After recovering from the initial impact of his body with the hard saddle once again, Justin launched into a string of curses that threatened to turn the very air around them ice blue.

 

The MacChoate smiled at the colorful phrases from the imp he carried.  He laughed out loud at the one that besmirched his prowess in bed and his choice of bed partners.

 

“I confess ta loving m’ horse, droch sióg,” the great man said, “but nae in that way! I creid Rinceoir would ‘ave something to say aboot that, would ye nae, m’ stail?”

 

The magnificent animal beneath them neighed his answer as he stretched out his legs and increased their pace, knocking the wind from Justin again as if to silence him.

 

~~

 

Paddy rode like the Highland winds, not stopping until he reached Dichiollach.

 

The castle guards barely had time to open the gates, before Rinceoir galloped inside, bearing his dual cargo with him.

 

Paddy tossed the reins to a startled groom before snatching his bundle from the saddle and carrying it inside.

 

Placing the elfin creature on his feet, the highlander started to unwrap him.

 

“Unless you intend to ravish me in the hall, I’d as soon stay covered,” the smaller man said as contemptuously as he could while quaking from fear inside.

 

Large hands froze, the man finally remembering his captive’s state of dress, or undress.

 

“Jamie!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs.

 

Within moments, a young boy of about six or seven years appeared. Dark hair, doe-eyed and sturdily made, the boy looked uneasy at being the center of attention.  “Aye, sir?” he asked in a shaky voice.

 

“A shirt. Fetch an old one from m’ chest and bring it here.”

 

The boy was off in a flash.

 

“Food! Drink!” he bellowed again.  “We  ‘ave a guest!  Do ye wish the man ta creid we are barbartha?”

 

“It’s a little late for that," Justin said under his breath, reasoning out the meaning of the last word.

 

Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of a beautiful woman in the doorway.

 

“Paddy!” she simpered with feigned breathlessness as she threw herself into the highlander’s arms, attaching herself to him with her mouth.

 

Justin looked on with disgust as she swooned and fluttered around the big man like a great bird.

 

“I was so worried aboot ye!  Are ye hurt?”  Seeing the blood on his hand.  “Ye are hurt! Mauve!” she screeched. “Bandages! Hot Water! The MacChoate’s been hurt!”

 

“It’s nae but a scratch.”  Paddy tried to move out of her clutches but she followed him.

 

“Even a scratch can fester.  You are not invincible.”

 

Paddy endured her mothering long enough to get his hand bandaged before growling, “Be off with ye, woman!” as he pried her hands from his arm.  “Can ye nae see another in the room?”

 

She stepped back with a pout, her dark eyes finally resting on Justin.

 

For a moment, the young man felt like a mouse being eyed by an owl.

 

“What is this, Paddy?” she demanded.  “Another of yer strays?”

 

“‘‘Tis part o’ the booty,” he said with a laugh.

 

“‘Tis fireannach or baineannach?"

 

“If the witch is asking my gender: it's a male and in the room, thank you!” Justin hissed.

 

The woman’s eyes turned cold as she took in Justin’s state of ‘dress’.

 

“Why is this . . . this ‘man’ wrapped in yer colors, Paddy?”

 

The MacChoate smiled as he fingered the bandage on his hand, and said slyly.  “I stripped him o’ his clothes."

 

Familiar with some ways of raiding, the woman smiled.  “Aye.  Then brought him back as a bit of entertainment fer the evening meal?” She laughed.  “He is pretty fer a male.  The men will enjoy him greatly.”

 

Justin paled.

 

“He isnae fer the men.”

 

“We  ‘ave servants enough and can get more from the village,” she said, a frown marring her icy beauty.  “Why bring him here and not leave him on the moors to die?”

 

One of the objects of discussion chose that moment to bring in the food.

 

MacChoate turned, stepping up to the upper table, taking his place at its head; the woman followed.

 

Justin stood where they left him looking around in fear.

 

A moment later, the young boy returned with the shirt.

 

“There’s a good leaid.  Gi’e it ta me, Jamie.”

 

The child quickly came forward, placing the shirt in Paddy’s hands.

 

“Go back ta Mauve, now,” MacChoate told Jamie, sending him on his way with a ruffle to his hand and a light swat to his bottom.  When the child had gone, he motioned the smaller man forward with his hand.  “Come here.”

 

Justin’s face took on a stubborn scowl.  “I’m not one of your dogs, barbarian!”

 

The MacChoate smiled.  “I will be having m’ colors back, now, acharradh.  Ye can trade them fer this shirt,” he said as he waggled it in the air, “or stand there naked fer the hall ta see.  The choice is yers.”

 

Justin frowned.  “I’m not your sport, you animal!” he hissed, trying to fight tears of frustration.

 

The man at the head of the table heard the quaver in Justin’s voice; saw the terror in his eyes he tried hard to hide.  “Nay,” MacChoate assured him compassionately.  “Yer safe here, ye ‘ave m’ word as laird, as long as you be ‘ave.”

 

“Behave as your prisoner?”

 

“Nay.  More like . . . a reluctant guest.”  The MacChoate smiled, waving the shirt in the air.  “Yer last chance, aillse.”

 

Justin glared, then sighed, his shoulders slumping with his defeat.  He came forward, gingerly picking his way through the mass of old, gnawed bones; assorted table scraps; huge, majestic elkhounds and smaller terrier-like dogs lay among the soiled and rotting rushes.

 

Finally arriving at Paddy's side, Justin let the big man pull the shirt over his head.

 

Reluctantly reaching underneath, Justin unwrapped the plaid and placed it in the huge hand extended towards him.

 

Paddy took the great length of cloth and tossed it about his shoulders.  As he resecured it with the brooch, the highlander tried to ignore the fact that now the material bore the sweet scent of his captive.

 

“Now, come sit.  Eat,” he ordered, and then turned to the female sitting next to him, a look of annoyance on his face.  “Katherine dinnae ye  ‘ave things ta be aboot?”

 

The woman seated to his left looked at him with surprise.  “I thought ta dine with ye, Paddy.”

 

“The rest o’ the men will be here soon.  Ye need ta see ta the kitchens.”

 

“Brenan doesnae need me ta hold his hand,” she complained, a frown once again marring her smooth features.

 

“Off with ye, woman!  I dinnae fancy scorched stew again tanight.”

 

Reluctantly, Katherine rose to her feet and left the room in a huff.

 

Paddy turned back to his captive and repeated.  “Sit. Eat.”

 

Reluctantly, Justin slid into the seat vacated by Katherine.

 

“Here.”  He pushed the bowl in front of the younger man.

 

Justin glanced down into its murky depths.

 

Pieces of something, maybe meat, floated on the greasy surface.  If the sight of such sludge didn’t take his appetite away, the smell would.  It almost matched the one coming from the floor.

 

Justin shook his head.  “How can you stand to eat this?  Better still, how can you stand to eat in this room?  The stench alone should kill the heartiest of appetites.”

 

Paddy frowned.  “Upkeep o’ the castle ‘tis Katherine’s responsibility.”

 

“And from the looks of this hall, she takes her duties very seriously,” Justin said, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

 

For the first time in a long while, Paddy took a good long look around the room and was appalled by what he saw. His mother was probably turning over in her grave.

 

Katherine chose that moment to return, her hackles rising at the sight of the usurper sitting in what she deemed ‘her’ chair.

 

She stormed her way to the high table just in time to hear:

 

“Ye creid ye can do better?”

 

“A blind cripple could do better than this.”

 

“Then the morrow ye can work with Katherine.”

 

“Work with me?  I will nae work with that beanag,” she screeched, and then froze at the look on her laird’s face.

 

Justin did not understand the word, but from the expression on the MacChoate’s face, it was a bad one.  From experience, Evers guessed it probably had something to do with his masculinity, or lack of it.

 

“The feeling's shared,” young Evers told her icily.

 

MacChoate intervened, disgusted at Katherine’s display.  “I willnae ‘ave a row here.”

 

“Then tell her not to assume—” Justin began.

 

“That foul mannered little –” Katherine said at the same time.

 

Paddy’s voice thundered out, interrupting them both, “Enough!”

 

Both fell silent immediately.

 

“All right, then. Ye,” he said to Justin with forced calm, “can clean this room.  I will assign ye help and we will see if ye can earn yer keep here.”

 

“That is if he can walk on the morrow,” Katherine said nastily as she stormed from the room.

 

~~~~~~

 

It was later that evening before the men finished piling the storage room high with spoils from the caravan.  Barrels of foodstuffs, tools, cooking utensils, candles, wax, oils, wine, spices and bolts upon bolts of fine silks and linens, brocades and colorfully dyed wools.

 

MacChoate entered, followed closely by Justin.

 

“Aye! ‘tis a king’s ransom, Paddy!” Joshua said, all smiles.

 

“This will feed us all fer years ta come!” Avery’s smile proved no less bright than his companion.

 

The MacChoate eyed their horde. It was indeed a ransom fit for a king.  “Yer athair must be wealthy, leaid,” he told Justin.

 

“Athair?  Father?”  The young man shook his head.  “No. This took almost all the monies that he had or could borrow.  He was counting on the profits from my sales to replenish his wealth.”

 

“What took his monies, leaid?”  Joshua asked.  “Bad business ventures?”

 

“No.” Justin said bitterly.  “A greedy second wife.”

 

“Ní do máthair sin?"

 

“Not my mother.”  The young man shook his head.  “My mother died about two years ago.  It took sixteen long years of life with Lord Evers to kill her,” he spat his father's name as if it were distasteful.

 

“Do athair . . .” Avery cleared his throat, “murdered her?”

 

“No.  But he might as well have,” the young man said bitterly.  “He met her on a trip to the Far East.  Her diminutive stature and foreign grace impressed him.  Impressed him enough for him to steal her away from her family, her country, and take her to England. The man never gave a thought there would be children.”  Justin laughed cynically.  “He never forgave her for giving birth to me.”

 

“And what, tell me, ‘tis   wrong with ye?” Joshua asked incredulously.

 

“Look at me,” Justin said softly as he spread his arms wide. “I’m not exactly what you’d want a son to look like,” the young man said harshly.  “A daughter maybe, but not a son.”

 

“Ye are comely fer a lad,” Paddy admitted softly.  All eyes turned to him and he blushed, unaware he had spoken his thoughts out loud.  “But that’s nae reason ta be ashamed o’ ye.”

 

Young Evers made a rude noise.

 

“A shop ‘tis quite a responsibility ta give ta the hands o’ a son he thought so little o’,” Joshua told him.

 

“He had no choice.  He couldn’t leave my . . .” Justin seemed to choke on the word, “stepmother.  And he thought of a way to be well rid of me.”

 

“Nay, leaid.  Ye misjudge his intentions, surely,” Avery said gently.

 

“No.”  Justin looked away in shame.  “You don’t know my father.  He did this because he had to, not because he wanted to.”  Glancing back at Paddy, young Evers confessed sadly, “Loren Evers wanted a son who looked more like you.”  Looking away again in shame.  “You he would’ve been proud of.”

 

Paddy gazed at the despondent young captive and felt a surge of protectiveness washed over him.  “Well, mo athair was nae proud o' me, either, acharradh.  So who’s ta ken the ways o' athairs.”  The MacChoate turned back to the spoils of the caravan.  “Is any o’ this yers alone?”

 

Justin shook his head.  “I had a few clothes, but that's all.”

 

“Is there nae anything ye want?”

 

Justin turned suspicious eyes on the big man.  “So you can deny it to me?” he said angrily.

 

The big man blinked in surprise at the vehemence in Evers’ voice.  “Pick something, aillse,” MacChoate said impatiently.

 

Justin frowned at the tone, but turned to view the stacks.

 

His eyes rested on a length of purple cloth his father had sent along with the others.

 

“This,” he said pointing.

 

“Can ye nae pick something else, leaid,” Avery said gently.  “‘Tis colors o' the king ye larr.”

 

“He said he’d give me what I wanted,” Justin said defiantly.  “I want this.”

 

“Ye cannae wear it,” Joshua told him softly as if speaking to a child.

 

“I don’t want to wear it.  This cost my father a great deal and he expected it to bring him more through favor with the king.  He would’ve bought that cow the necklace that she coveted, the one worth more than our home.”  Justin’s eyes flamed with outrage.  “He never bought things like that for my mother, and she never asked.”

 

Paddy walked over and picked up the cloth.  Turning, he handed it to Justin.  “Tally it up, men, let me know what we  ‘ave.  I am off ta bed.”  MacChoate headed for the door, stopping to whisper to Joshua.  “If ye see anything that would suit the acharradh, put it with m’ portion.”

 

“Aye, Paddy,” Joshua whispered back, giving his lifelong friend a wink.

 

Paddy blushed at the jibe.  “Go on with ye, ye great béar!” he said as he punched the big man in the shoulder.  “Ye forget ta who ye speak!”

 

“Nay, boc!” Joshua said softly.  Then said louder, “But I  ‘ave nae seen ye smile so wide in a long time.”

 

The big man's blush darkened. “‘Tis nae what ye creid,” MacChoate protested weakly.

 

"Aye," Joshua said, smile widening. “‘Tis nae that at all.”

 

Paddy shook his head.  “Come along, acharradh.”

 

Justin looked up at him, his eyes round with surprise.  “Come where?”

 

“Ta bed,” the big man rumbled.

 

Apprehension made the young man blink stupidly.  “With you?”

 

“Aye.”

 

“No!” Justin snapped as comprehension dawned.

 

“I willnae argue with ye,” the clan leader said coolly.

 

“No!” Evers repeated anger rising with his outrage and his shame.

 

“Suit yerself.”  The MacChoate leaned forward and swept the smaller man up and over his shoulder.

 

“You big foul barbarian!” Justin screamed as he pounded on the broad back.  “Put me down!”

 

Justin felt the tail of the shirt moved aside and an agonizing swat delivered to his bare bottom.

 

“YEOW!” the smaller man cried out before going completely still.

 

“Ye want another?” Paddy asked calmly.

 

Justin shook his head. “No,” he answered in a subdued voice.

 

“Then say good night ta Avery and Joshua.”

 

Evers looked up, blinking back tears.  “Good night,” he whispered before burying his face against the tartan he lay upon.

 

“Good night, leaid,” Joshua told him sympathetically.

 

And both men watched their laird as he carried his prize from the room.

 

“Ye bóid he will—”

 

“I dinnae bóid anything,” Joshua interrupted as he turned away.  “Let us get ta work.”

 

~~~

 

Upstairs, in Paddy’s rooms, the great man lowered his captive to his feet.

 

Justin quickly danced out of reach, rubbing at his abused ass with both hands.  He threw his attacker a murderous look, but found Paddy ignoring him, busily stripping off his clothes.

 

Justin quickly averted his eyes, as more flesh became visible, but not soon enough.  ‘By all things holy,’ Evers thought as the heat rose quickly to his face, ‘this man is well made!’  The young man drew a shaky breath as he heard a splash.

 

Turning back to the room, he glimpsed MacChoate’s tight, naked rear a second before it slid into a huge tub of steaming water.

 

The great barbarian taking a bath was the last thing Justin expected.  The steaming tub looked so inviting, the smaller man found himself drawn to it.

 

“Ye can wash m’ back,” Paddy told him, holding out the washing cloth and soap.

 

“I think not,” Justin replied in a defiant, although slightly shaky voice.

 

Paddy smiled a feral smile.  “The way ye yelped at that light tap I ga’e ye downstairs, I wouldnae bóid you would want a harder one.  T’was I wrong?”

 

Unwillingly, Justin took the cloth and soap from the big man’s hand and worked up lather.  Just as grudgingly, he placed the soap aside and began scrubbing the broad and solid back.

 

In a flash of desire, young Evers became aware the play of muscles that felt like rock beneath his fingers.  So smooth. So warm.  This man was strong enough to snap him like a twig, or had power enough to pleasure him to madness all the night.

 

‘You’ve lost your mind, Justin Evers!’ the confused young man scolded himself harshly. “I would think you’d have Katherine doing this.  She’s your mistress, isn’t she?”

 

Paddy leaned forward silently inviting Justin to go lower.  “Nay.  We  ‘ave pleasured each other now and again when she’s at Dichiollach, but that is all.”  Laughter rumbled in his chest.  “Are ye jealous, aillse?”

 

Justin blushed hot red and nearly dropped the cloth.  “No!  Why would I be jealous?  If you want to bed that great horned owl, it’s no business of mine!”

 

Now Paddy laughed aloud as he sat back in the tub, the water sloshing over the sides wetting the shirt Justin wore.  “Ye are right, abaisd!  She does look like a great owl.”

 

“Oh!  Look what you’ve done!  I’m soaked through!” Justin scolded.

 

Paddy turned in the tub and, with a swift movement, stripped the smaller figure of the shirt. Flinging it aside, he pulled the startled young man into the water with him.  “There, now, isnae that better?”

 

Justin's lips had formed a tiny ‘o’ that Paddy couldn’t resist.  He leaned forward to cover the inviting mouth with his own.

 

Evers stiffened a second with dismay, then melted against the hard, warm length, returning the kiss with the desperation of a doomed man.

 

They stayed like that, each exploring the hot darkness of the other's mouth until they were forced to draw apart to take a deep breath.

 

Then Justin's sanity returned.  “Is this where you rape me?” he asked sadly.

 

The MacChoate blinked in shock and surprise.  “Rape?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I dinnae rape,” he said, his pride wounded.

 

"Right," Evers smirked.

 

“T’was but a kiss, droch sióg.”  Paddy surged from the tub, dumping the smaller body into the cooling water.  “And I dinnae remember ye struggling much.”

 

Justin looked away in embarrassment.  “You caught me off guard.”

 

As the big man stepped from the tub, Justin's hungry eyes followed every move.

 

“Aye, I caught ye, true enough, and until I say otherwise, ye belong ta me.”

 

Justin also rose to his feet although not presenting as imposing a picture as the highlander.  He stood dripping wet in the tub, his hands on his hips and scowled at the larger man.  “I belong to no one!” the young man snapped with false bravado.

 

MacChoate caught up the drying cloth and wrapped it around his waist as he leaned in close to Justin’s face.  “Ye belong ta me, like it o’ nae.”

 

“I won’t be your slave,” Justin whispered, leaning away from the intimidating giant.

 

Paddy straightened indignantly.  “Finish with yer bath - ye smell of horse - and come ta bed.”  He turned away.  “If I  ‘ave  ta come fetch ye, ye will feel m’ hand.  Do ye ken?”

 

~~~

 

MacChoate started awake at the pounding on his bedroom door.  Hastily pulling on a shirt, he threw it open rubbing sleep from his eyes.  There, standing in the hallway, was one of the bailey guards holding young Evers by the arm.  Barefooted, dressed in another of Paddy's shirts and wrapped in a length of his tartan, Justin avoided the highlander’s angry gaze.

 

“He tried to steal a horse, m’laird,” the man told him.  “Had it not been for Rinceoir, he might  ‘ave  succeeded.”

 

“Stupid horse made so much noise,” Justin complained to no one in particular, “It was like he knew . . . like he was calling for the guard.”

 

Taking Justin’s arm from the guard, the big man said, “Thank you, William,” and shut the door.  Turning to the forlorn figure standing in the center of the room, Paddy put his hands on his hips and scowled.  “And just where did ye creid ye were going?”

 

“To Edinburgh,” Justin whispered.

 

“In the dead o’ night?”

 

The small, pointed chin rose in defiance.  “I would have found my way.”

 

“Aye. Into yer grave.”  He reached out and quickly relieved Justin of his clothes.

 

Tucking the naked, struggled figure under his arm, Paddy carried young Evers over to a chair by the fire.  Sitting down, he drew Justin face down over his lap.

 

“What are you doing?” Justin cried.

 

“What I promised,” he said as he wrapped his left arm around the slender waist, first taking a moment to admire the apple roundness of the twin mounds of Justin’s ass before bringing his hand down smartly across the left side.

 

The sharp spank sent pain right through the young man as he jumped like a landed fish. “NO!” he screamed and bucked, twisting to get away.

 

Paddy only tightened his hold and spanked him again.

 

“I’m not a child!” Justin squealed as another sharp smack made him jump.

 

“Aye,” Paddy said, emphasizing the word with his hand on the right side.  “A child would know better.”  This time the swat encompassed both mounds of Justin's bottom making Justin howl.

 

Paddy spanked the flush-pink bottom once more before hauling the indignant young man to his feet.

 

“Get in that bed,” Paddy ordered firmly, pointing to guide Justin’s way.

 

The young captive spent one second looking first at the towering highlander, then at the closed door, before turning and stomping over to the bed, sliding under the furs, trying for all the world to fool the highlander into believing that the spanking didn’t hurt, but the gasp that escaped his lips as his bottom touched the bedding gave him away.

 

After extinguishing all but two candles, MacChoate joined him.

 

Justin immediately turned his back, the action throwing his braid across Paddy’s strong forearm.  The elf had washed his hair.  The big man twisted its damp length around his hand and gently tugged.

 

Justin had no choice but to follow until he lay across the wide expanse of chest.  Their gazes locked.

 

“Please, don’t hurt me anymore,” Justin whimpered, eyes bright with tears.

 

Paddy towed the braid until their lips barely touched.  “Kiss me,” he demanded, eyes focused on the pouty lips just a breath before his.

 

Justin hesitated only a moment, then leaned down until their lips met.

 

The kiss was sweet as fine honeyed-mead and the MacChoate drank greedily until they were both giddy from it.

 

“Now, go ta sleep,” he ordered pulling Justin by his braid until the small head rested on his chest, then drew the furs over them both.

 

~~~~~~

 

The MacChoate woke to warmth draped across the front of him, and a rock hard cock pressed up against his groin.  He smiled as the small, narrow hips began to move, grinding the erection down against him.  As if in answer, his own organ soon began to swell and leaped to full as a hot mouth closed around his nipple.  The big man shifted to look down at the face of his bedmate.  Ach, he realized with a start, the abaisd dreamed. At that moment, Justin shifted his weight to cover Paddy’s penis, aligning the two together.  Suddenly, the highlander found his next breath difficult to draw.  The droch sióg dreamed, aye, and such dreams they were!

 

Loath to wake the small bundle so blissfully humping against him, Paddy began to move his hips in an answering motion.  Justin tensed, then sighed and began his rhythmic dance anew, his thrusts becoming more animated, punctuated with little noises of pleasure.

 

Raising his head, the young man blindly sought Paddy's mouth, clutching at the broad shoulders for leverage, and brought their lips together in a kiss that seared the highlander down to his toes.

 

With a final sigh, and a downward grind with a strength that belied his size, his captive whimpered, “Oh!” then released his semen in a heated flow onto the MacChoate's stomach, followed by a sigh that sounded suspiciously like Paddy's name.

 

Pressing down on the small of Justin’s back for added friction, the highlander rolled his hips once . . . twice . . . thrice against the warmth of the thighs and groin above him and came with a shout.

 

Deep green eyes flew open to stare down into dark brown ones.

 

“Oh,” Justin breathed as his cheeks blossomed with color.

 

“Aye, aillse,” Paddy smiled as he tucked a strand of hair behind a shell of ear.  “T’was a fine way ta start the day.”

 

“Oh,” Justin repeated softly.  “I . . . I was dreaming.”

 

Paddy kissed the slightly open mouth.  “Tell me yer dream.  I hope it t’was o’ me.”

 

The color deepened.  “I—”

 

“Dinnae creid ta lie ta me,” the big man warned ominously as he squeezed his captive tighter.

 

Now the young man began to struggle.  “I have to go.”

 

Steely arms tightened.  “Nay, we can lay aboot a few moments more.”

 

“I have to go,” Justin emphasized the last word.

 

MacChoate caught the meaning.  “Oh. Aye.  A kiss first.”

 

“But—”

 

“A kiss so I dinnae feel ye used me falsely fer satisfaction while dreaming o’ another.”

 

Justin looked horrified.  “I never would!”

 

Paddy smiled triumphantly.  “So then ye were dreaming o’ me,” Paddy stated triumphantly.

 

Justin leaned down and quickly silenced the highlander with the demanded kiss, then wiggled from his grasp.  Snatching up the shirt he had worn the night before, the small man fled the room, deep laughter following him down the hall to the privy.

 

~~~

 

A half hour later, Paddy came downstairs in search of his wayward ‘lover’.  The big man smiled at that word, the smile fading fast as his eyes fell upon the great hall.

 

Justin tugged and pulled at a bundle of soiled and stinking rushes that lay on the floor. Poor Jamie stood next to him, trying as best as he could to help.  Also, giving their aid were Meghan from the kitchens and her sister Callie.  The bundle of rushes was winning the fight.

 

“Where is everyone?!” the laird thundered, causing the small band of workers to jump and drop their burden.

 

Meghan wiped her hands on her apron.  “Lady Katherine found other things fer them ta do.”

 

“Other things?  What other things?”

 

“She said the linens needed airing and we were low on candles,” Callie told him shyly.

 

“She demanded a tally o’ the storeroom and the stock,” Jamie told him. “And she had them start the laundry.”

 

The MacChoate glanced out one of the high windows in the hall.  “Laundry?  With the clouds promising a storm?”

 

The three nodded as one.

 

“Where are Joshua and Avery?”

 

“Still abed.  They were up late last night.” Jamie pointed up the stairs.  “Should I get them?”

 

Paddy shook his head.  “Is there nae else aboot?”

 

Meghan told her laird, “She has them all.”

 

“I will see aboot that!” Paddy growled as he stormed past the startled group.

 

~~~~~~

 

Outside in the bailey, the MacChoate found several men milling about.  “What are ye doing out here?” he demanded.

 

“We were waiting fer the Lady Katherine,” the tallest said nervously.

 

“And where is she?”

 

They looked at each other in confusion.

 

“We dinnae know,” one said as he shifted from one foot to the other.

 

“She has been gone a long time,” another said, fearfully.

 

“She bid us wait here,” a fourth man told the highlander as he twisted his cap in his hands as the rest made verbal noises of agreement.

 

“Well, I  ‘ave  a task fer ye.  All o' ye.  Come with me.”

 

Paddy re-entered the hall with the small army of men and pointed to Justin.  “This is Justin Evers.  I ‘ave gi'en him the task o’ cleaning this hall.”  The men murmured among themselves.  “Ye are ta do his bidding as mine.  Do ye ken?”

 

“Aye,” the men answered in unison.

 

“But . . .” one man said hesitantly.  “What of the Lady Katherine?”

 

The MacChoate froze.  “What of her?” he said, his voice deadly calm.

 

The man who raised the question trembled under his laird’s gaze.  “She bid us stay, m’laird.”

 

“Ah,” Paddy said thoughtfully as he turn to fully face the man.  “That’s the crux, I am laird of Dichiollach Castle, am I nae?”  He watched the men until the acknowledged his statement.  “And as the laird, this is m’ land, m’ word is law.  Ye rely on me for yer protection and yer very lives.  Are ye questioning me?”

 

“Nae, m’laird,” four voices said together.

 

“The Lady Katherine is a guest here, but she is subject to m’ laws, just as ye are.  Yer not to leave this task I’ve placed on ye until it is done.  If she questions that, tell her ta find me and I will settle it.  Do ye ken?”

 

“Aye m’laird,” they said softly, none meeting his glare.

 

“Good.”  Satisfied, Paddy walked away.

 

Justin drew a deep breath.  ‘He’s leaving me!’ he thought in panic.

 

Paddy stopped at the doorway and looked back at him, gracing young Evers with a smile of confidence, before continuing on his way.

 

‘I can do this. I have to!’

 

“We need to bundle up these rushes and take them out into the bailey to burn.  Then we need to take a cart and go out to find fresh ones.”

 

One of the men smiled.  “I know a place.”

 

“Good. You can take the cart and someone to help you.  You four can gather the rushes from the floor to burn.  The rest of you fetch hot water and soap.  We have to scrub down this entire room.  Jamie!  Meghan!  Open the door to let in some fresh air.”

 

Four hours later, a wet and dirty Justin stood back and breathed deeply of the clean, fresh smell of the hall.  He smiled as he surveyed their efforts.

 

“‘tis cleaner than I  ‘ave  seen it in a long while,” said the oldest helper with pride at their accomplishments.

 

“Yes!” Justin said, feeling pride himself.  “As soon as we dry the floor, we can lay out the fresh rushes.”

 

“What are ye doing in here?”

 

They turned to face a wrath-filled Katherine.

 

“They’re helping me,” Justin told her calmly.

 

Katherine pointedly ignored him.  “I gave ye men something else ta do.”

 

“No,” Justin stepped in front of her.  “You sent them away to wait for nothing so I’d have no one to help me.”

 

Katherine’s eyes finally focused on the small man.  “Ye dinnae need any help, beanag.  Ye could  ‘ave  finished on yer own.”

 

“Finish on my own the mess you took how long to make?  No, you wanted me to fail, so you’d look better in his eyes.”

 

“I dinnae need yer failure ta accomplish that!”

 

“You lazy witch!  You have an army of servants to do your bidding and you let the castle become a pigsty!”

 

She took a step forward, kicking a skinny wolfhound pup out the way as she did.  The cur yelped and slinked away.  “Who are ye calling lazy?” she hissed.  “Dinnae ride the high horse with me, catamite!  Just because ye spent the night in his bed, dinnae mean ye  ‘ave  any power!  Ye are but a momentary distraction!  Ye  ‘ave nae what pleases him.”

 

Justin raised a brow and asked dubiously, “But you do?”

 

“Aye, and I  ‘ave  in the past, and I will again.”  She took another step.  “Ye just watch me.”

 

“Paddy!  Blessed Saints!  We are in the wrong castle!”  Joshua's voice boomed out in the silence of the hall.

 

“Aye, m’laird!  There isnae stench!” Avery laughed.

 

Suddenly, all three men came clomping in from the bailey.

 

“My floor!” Justin shrieked in dismay as he looked down at their muddy boots.  “It took us the entire morning to scrub this place.  Don’t you three dare track mud onto our nice clean floor.”

 

The three men stood there with a comical look of surprise on their faces.

 

“He sounds like a harpy,” Avery said with a half-smile.

 

Justin blushed.  “Not a harpy, just someone who wants to eat in a clean hall for a change. You three just march yourselves right out and wipe your feet!”

 

“Wipe our feet?” Paddy stammered, hardly able to contain his mirth.

 

“Yes,” Justin answered indignantly.  “There are rushes laid just outside!  The next one who tracks up my floor will die by my own hands!”

 

The three men blinked owlishly, then burst into uproarious laughter.

 

Joshua clapped both his friends on their backs.  “‘Tis outside ta wipe our feet then, men! I, fer one, dinnae want ta die at the hands o’ so fierce a fey creature!”  He laughed heartily as he guided his fellows back into the bailey.

 

~~~

 

The evening meal was horrible, as usual, but at least it was served in a clean hall and that seemed to lift everyone’s spirits enough that the drink did not flow as freely.

 

The highlander made Justin sit next to him at the high table and tried to get him to eat, but the closeness of the large man caused Justin’s emotions to spiral out of control.  Poor Evers twisted and turned on the sharp point of his lust until, one of the scouts called Paddy’s attention away.  Seeing escape, he plucked an apple, a bit of cheese and a heel of bread from the table and slipped away.

 

Wandering the halls, the young man finally found a flight of stairs and began to climb. Soon, he found himself on the parapets, startling a guard.

 

“Here now!” he cried, causing Justin to jump and almost drop his food.

 

“I’m sorry,” Justin stammered.  “I didn’t know anyone was up here.”

 

“Nay, ‘tis just me and the dog here.”

 

Justin looked down to see the wolfhound pup Katherine had kicked earlier.

 

“I was trying to find a quiet place,” Justin told him while admiring the young dog.

 

“Dinnae get much quieter than here,” the grizzled guard told him wryly.

 

Glancing back down the stairwell, Justin said, “I don't want to intrude.”

 

“Here, leaid, sit.  I could use a bit o’ company.”

 

Justin crawled up onto a stone ledge and sat.  “If you’re hungry, I have some cheese and bread.  That was about all there was fit to eat.”  Looking down at the fat, red fruit.  “I’m afraid I only have one apple, though,” he said remorsefully.

 

“Nay, leaid.  M’ watch ‘tis o’er soon and m’ wife has supper waiting.  Ye eat, though.”  He smiled as he thought, ‘Yer need it more than I.’

 

Justin smiled back.  The man wasn’t young, his grey hair bright in the fading light.

 

The dog at his feet whined.

 

“Are you hungry, boy?” young Evers asked it.

 

“Actually, ‘tis a cailín.”

 

Justin held out a piece of cheese.

 

The dog hung back, shivering with uneasiness.

 

“It’s all right, girl.  Here.  Take it,” he said in a soft voice.  When she didn’t approach, Justin looked up at the guard.  “Is she yours? What’s her name?”

 

“Nay.  She dinnae belong ta me.  She's from the MacChoate’s favorite wolfhound’s last litter.  She was the runt.  Too small ta hunt.  Too small ta fight fer food.  The poor wee thing was starving.  She comes up here sometimes, like ye I creid, ta get away from the great hall.  I feed her sometimes.  I call her, 'Madra'."

 

The dog turned and looked up at the word.

 

"Madra.  That’s pretty.  What does it mean?”

 

The guard laughed.  “Dog.”

 

Justin started a moment, then he began to laugh, too.  “Here, Madra.  Come here, girl, I won't hurt you.”  The young man kept coaxing in a soft voice until the hunger in the dog won out over her apprehension.  She came in close enough to sniff the food in Justin’s hand.  The young man braced for her to snatch it and run away, but she surprised him, gently lifting the piece of cheese from his fingers.  “She’s pretty,” he said, watching as she greedily consumed the bit of food.

 

“Aye.  We just bathed in the river.  She dinnae likes ta be dirty.”

 

“Why don’t you take her home with you?  She seems to like you.”

 

“No one can own a wolfhound, save the laird, leaid.  It just isnae done.”

 

“You think he’d mind if I took care of her?” Justin asked the old man hopefully.

 

“He would mind a lot less if ye dinnae sneak off the minute his back was turned and cause him ta tear the castle apart looking fer ye.”

 

Both men turned to find the MacChoate standing behind them, hands on his hips, a scowl on his face.

 

“Sir, we . . .” the older man stammered.

 

Paddy held up a silencing hand.  “Go down below, Thomas, and tell the others that I found him.”

 

The old man hurried off, casting one last look over his shoulder before disappearing down the stairs.

 

When they were alone, Paddy came to stand in front of Justin.  Reaching out a slightly trembling hand, he stroked back the tendril of hair that had escaped from Justin's braid. “Dinnae ye e’er do that ta me again!  Do ye hear me?  Do ye ken?" Paddy choked out, his voice tight with emotion.

 

Justin looked up shyly into the pain-filled eyes and wondered out loud,  “What did I do?”

 

“I thought—” Paddy paused to clear his throat and continued in a stronger voice.  “I thought ye had run off again.”

 

“Where would I go?” he said softly as he tossed Madra another piece of bread and cheese. “Besides, you made it clear last night what would happen it I did.”

 

Paddy spared the small dog a glance before turning to his captive.  “The highlands are nae safe, acharradh.  Although, I would like to think that wasnae the only reason ye obeyed me.”  He touched the small man’s head again.  “I was worried.”

 

Slowly, the small head nodded in ascension.  “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

 

“Why did ye leave the table?”

 

“I . . . I was afraid.”

 

“Afraid?  Afraid o’ what?  O’ me?”

 

Justin swallowed as he tossed the remainder of the food to the dog and brushed the crumbs from his hands before looking back up into MacChoate’s face.  “Afraid that you’d make me sleep with you again.”

 

“T’was . . . unpleasant ta ye, sleeping with me?” Paddy asked, carefully hiding his anxiety.

 

Justin looked away, the darkness hiding the blush that burned across his face.  “No.”

 

“Then why be afraid ta do it again?”

 

“Because . . . because of how it makes me feel.”

 

“And how is that?”

 

Justin paused a long time, he thought of lying, but quickly discarded the notion.  “Sinful,” he confessed at last, then drew a deep breath.  “I was raised in England.  The custom of families of my social status is to send their sons away to boarding school at an early age. My mother convinced my father to keep me home with her until I was nearly twelve, something unheard of in my father’s class, and when they finally sent me away . . . well, I didn’t have an easy time of it there.”

 

Paddy climbed onto the ledge to sit and waited for Justin to continue.

 

“I’ve never been tall.  And I’ve always been . . .pretty.”  The young man paused.  “And I have never liked girls.”

 

“Ne’er?”

 

“Not like that.”

 

“Did yer parents know?”

 

“I told my mother. She was loving and supportive, as always.  She told me to follow my heart.  That it would never lead me astray, but, be cautious.  I couldn’t tell my father, but he suspected.  When I graduated from school and came home, he knew.  I had let my hair grow long and my features had softened instead of roughened.  At the school I had,” Justin stopped, looking up at Paddy guiltily.  "Experimented with boys.”  He ducked his head.  “Anyway, when my father found out, he called me names.  Hit me,” he said sadly, looking away.

 

MacChoate reached out again to brush the lock of hair aside.

 

“You know I am attracted to you . . . I can’t hide it,” Justin said softly.  “And I know I am your captive to do with as you please.” He paused.  “And that you want me, too.  Although I don’t understand why.” He looked back up.  “But don’t make me sleep in your bed, please.”

 

“Ye want me ta pleasure ye and leave?” Paddy growled.

 

“I . . . I’d like you not to pleasure me at all.”

 

“‘Tis nae the truth,” Paddy told him gently.

 

“Well, let’s just say I’d like us to fight our baser urges.”

 

The highlander smiled.  “I cannae promise that, acharradh.”

 

Justin lowered his head and nodded.  “All right,” he said at last, “can you just give me a little time to come to terms with what we want?”

 

“Time?”

 

The smaller man wet his lips with the tip of his tongue.  “Just a little.”

 

Paddy frowned.  Distracted by the movement, he mirrored it.

 

“Please,” Justin whispered, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

 

MacChoate found his resistance wavering.  “Just a little?”

 

“Yes.”

 

A long pause passed as the highlander considered his alternatives.  He didn't want his small prize to come to him unwillingly, but he wanted him with an urgency that would not be denied long.  But if he pressured him Patrick knew, he would lose Justin in the end.  That he could not tolerate.  As distasteful as it was, he made the decision.  “Aye, abaisd,” the big man said softly.  “But, just a little.”

 

Justin hesitated a heartbeat before plowing ahead with another request,  “And a room of my own?”

 

The great man rose angrily to his feet, turning to face the slightly cringing form before him.  “I will gi’e ye a room ta yerself, fer a little while, if ye swear ta me ye willnae run.”

 

Evers clutched the apple tightly to his chest like a shield.  “Run?” he squeaked, rolling on his hip so that his backside faced away from the giant.

 

The highlander saw the fear and took a deep breath to calm himself before going on, “Aye.  Run away from here . . . from me.”

 

Justin stared at the MacChoate a long time.  “I swear I will not run away from here, or you, ever again, MacChoate.”

 

“Aye, then.  And you can call me Paddy.”

 

~~~

 

Later, tucked away into the wee room Paddy found for him, Justin wondered if he’d made the right decision.  The tiny trundle bed felt huge and lonely and he desperately missed the warm, solid presence of the highlander.  Then his father’s hurtful words came back to him, taking away his joyful memory.  The small man curled up into a ball of misery, not knowing what to do.

 

Then he heard a scratching at the door.

 

Getting up, Justin hesitantly went to open it.  There, standing in the hall, making herself as small as possible, stood Madra.  She looked up at him with hope filled, yet pitiful, eyes.

 

“Hello, girl,” Justin said gently.  “How did you find me?  You want to come in?”  He opened the door wider, and, warily, the small hound edged into the room.  “I have a fire, girl.” Justin said, shutting the door behind them.  He walked over and sat on the large rug before the hearth.  “And there’s more bread and cheese.  Come here.”

 

The dog cautiously trotted over and lay down.  Justin gave her some cheese.  “Tomorrow I’ll get you a big bone.  Would you like that, Madra?"

 

The dog’s tail thumped the rug once.  She whimpered and Justin fed her more food.  At least now he was not alone.

 

Outside in the shadows of the hall, MacChoate stood watching the closed door with a heavy heart.  At last the big man turned away, retucking his tartan from the pouch he'd used to spirit the small dog up the stairs from the hall.

 

~~~~~~

 

Five days passed with Justin and Paddy dancing uneasily around each other. They still shared the high table, MacChoate politely offering his captive foods from his trencher. But when the meal was over, Justin fled the room and stayed gone until the next meal. And, at night, they each went their separate ways, Paddy alone to his own rooms, Justin carrying food up to his cubby to feed Madra.

 

On the afternoon of the sixth day, Justin found that Paddy and a small troupe had left the castle early to patrol the clan borders.  No one expected him back before dark.

 

After trying in vain to find something among the foodstuffs on the table he could eat, Justin decided it was time to take matters into his own hands. He stopped a servant in the hall and asked directions to the kitchens. The poor man seemed frightened half out of his wits, but directed him with a shaky hand to the passageway behind them.

 

The expansive, vaulted kitchens were in a lower level of the castle, the heat, sound and stench greeted him at the top of the stairs.

 

The room was crowded with people, all of whom were talking at once. Two enormous stone fireplaces -- large enough to hold spitted cows in each -- graced each end of the room. Designed to heat the great hall above during winter, the coals had been allowed to die in one and a pitiful blaze burned in the other where a rack of lamb hung half done on one side and a cauldron of watery soup bubbled inadequately on a hook on the other.

 

The tables and benches were cluttered with unwashed dishes and pots, and a staved bucket of entrails was going to waste at the foot of the stairs.

 

Black smoke billowed from the iron door of the brick oven, signalling that they would have burnt bread for the meal again.  No one made any move to rescue it.  In the center of the chaos stood the Lady Katherine, acting steward of Dichiollach Castle, conversing with the cook who stirred the contents of the cauldron every now and again with a large wooden spoon.

 

While Justin watched in horror, the man tasted the broth and spat the contents back into the cooking pot, then went back to talking to Katherine.  The lady made a disgusted face as she made a note to avoid the soup for dinner.

 

Scanning the room, Justin also noticed servants lolling drunkenly on low benches and pallets near the stone fireplaces, even though there was still work to be done.  They called ribald remarks to one another and laughed uproariously at their own weak wit.  A woman at the large table in the center kneaded bread dough while a stableman, obvious from the look and stench of him, kneaded her breasts.  Off in a corner, a young serving girl struggled with a brute as he bore her down on the rough floor and fumbled with his kilt. Her screams went unnoticed by the rest of the servants.

 

Acting on instinct, Justin stormed down the steps, snagging the bucket of entrails and water as he went. Once behind the potential rapist, Justin drew back the bucket and sloshed the contents all over the man's back.

 

From the string of Gaelic curses that issued from the man’s mouth, and the speed which with he leaped from atop the young girl, Justin guessed the water and its contents were cold.

 

The man spun to face his attacker, drawing his dagger, but froze when he saw who stood before him.

 

“Here now!” said the cook, his attention drawn to the ruckus in the corner.  “Ye cannae be in here!”

 

Justin eyed the man calmly.  “And why not?”

 

Katherine turned blazing eyes on the usurper.  “He might  ‘ave  gi’e ye control o’er the great hall, beanag, but these kitchens are still under m’ charge,” she said haughtily.

 

Justin snorted.  “Yes, I see your fine hand here.  And in the time I’ve been here we’ve not had one decent meal.”

 

The cook brandished the spoon like a weapon.  “And who be ye ta come here and criticize m’ skill?”

 

“‘Tis the laird’s oainjyr,” Katherine announced with cold malice.

 

There were a few scattered snickers that were stopped cold by a glare from Justin.

 

“I’m one of the ones who’ve had to suffer your swill.”

 

“Swill!” the rotund man squealled, sounding very much like the pig he resembled.  “I will nae take insults from a catamite.  Get out o’ m’ kitchen!”  He advanced menacingly with his spoon only to be restrained by one of the people next to him.

 

“Ye dinnae want ta do that, Brenan,” the man whispered.

 

“No, let him go,” Justin told him, struggling to hide his growing anxiety.  “The man’s as big a fool as he is bad a cook.”

 

Justin’s would-be rescuer released Brenan.

 

“How dare ye call me a bad cook?” the man hissed, clutching the spoon like a sword.

 

“Because you are!  The laird of this keep should be able to expect more than the garbage you’ve been feeding him!”

 

“I will  ‘ave  ye know ‘tis the third generation o’ cooks fer this castle I am—”

 

“And, unless your father and grandfather were as bad a cook as you are, they are turning over in their graves!  Take a look around you, man.  This place is a worst than a privy! It’s a wonder you haven’t brought the whole castle down with a wasting disease.”

 

“I dinnae need ye ta tell me how ta run m’ kitchen.”

 

Justin raised an eyebrow and said haughtily, “Oh?”

 

“Aye, ye  ‘ave  nae jurisdiction here,” Katherine told him nastily.

 

Justin smiled as he crossed his arms over his chest.  “I have as much right here as you.”

 

“Why?  Because ye are fucking the laird?” Katherine sneered.

 

“Are you jealous because you’re not?”

 

Katherine’s face turned white.  “Ye are nae sleeping with him since the first night!  Ye were such a disappointment, he dinnae waste much time getting rid o’ ye.”

 

“Did he?” Justin countered smugly.  “Then why am I still here?”

 

“Perhaps fer ransom,” the lady told him hotly.

 

“He knows no one will pay.  The MacChoate already has the contents of my entire caravan.  I’m not in his bed because I choose not to be.  You're not because he doesn’t want you there."

 

“Why, ye—”

 

Brenan interrupted the fight to say, “Dinnae waste yer time squabbling with him, m’ lady. If he bóid he can do a better job than me, leave him welcome!”  Turning on his heel, the cook snatched the filthy apron from around his waist and flung it at Justin, storming from the room.

 

“Yer arrogance twill last yer ‘til the MacChoate calls fer his meal.”  Katherine threw him a triumphant look before following the cook.

 

Justin looked around the room at the astonished faces.  “If anyone else is leaving, do it now.”

 

The smaller man held his heart in his throat as he waited for the kitchen to empty.

 

Several looked around at each other, then back again at the retreating forms of Brenan and the lady Katherine.

 

After a moment’s hesitation, the would-be rapist followed them out.  The man who had been kneading the woman's breast then left, pulling her along with him.  The drunken loungers followed.

 

All others remained.

 

Justin released his breath with a hard sigh.  “Good.  That takes care of the riffraff.” He walked over to the dough, picked it up and tossed it into the emptied bucket.  “Will someone rescue the bread in the oven?  We have a dinner to prepare.”

 

Thirty minutes later, Justin stood in the midst of structured chaos, directing the remaining kitchen help like the finest of generals.  The first thing he did was toss out the soup Brenan had been stirring and order the pot scoured clean.

 

The young girl he had rescued from rape proved to be an excellent replacement for their lost baker.

 

Salvaging what they could of the bread from the oven, Justin stood looking at it.

 

“Who among you has been here the longest?”

 

A plump lady stepped forward.  “I be Mauve, sir.  I  ‘ave  been here since afore the MacChoate was born.  I also look after li’l Jamie here."

 

“Do you know what his favorite dishes are?”

 

“Aye,” she said suspiciously.

 

“Could you help me, then?  I’d like to make this meal as pleasurable as possible,” Justin said softly, blushing under the woman’s intense scrutiny.  “To make up . . . for the others.”

 

“Aye,” Mauve said, seeing past the small obfuscation.  “He is quite fond o'’ a good haggis.”

 

“And capull coille,” piped up someone else.

 

“Aye, ‘tis so," Mauve agreed thoughtfully.

 

“And that time Brenan was down sick, I made a huge pot o’ m’ lamb broth the laird said he liked."

 

“Aye, ‘tis true, Sarah.  T’was a fine broth.”

 

Justin, whose head reeled trying to follow the conversation asked, “Can we make these things?”

 

Mauve looked around the room thoughtfully.  “Shane, go to the smoke house and fetch a bird and a haunch of that lamb fer Sarah’s soup.  Peader,  ‘ave  some of the children bring in what vegetables they can from the garden.  Caitlan, ye can help me with the haggis. . ."

 

On and on she went, a slightly dazed Justin deciding it would be better outside helping the children gather vegetables.

 

Young Evers looked at the sorry garden and made a mental note to help get the plot of land in better shape.

 

Once back in the kitchen, Justin aided in the preparation of the kale and potatoes they had rounded up, making the potatoes into scones and putting the kale into a big pot simmering with great chunks of smoked pork.

 

Now, thick, rich broth bubbled merrily in a clean cauldron over a healthy fire as Sarah stirred it with a proud smile on her face.

 

The smaller man hazarded a glance over Mauve’s shoulder as she prepared the haggis. She had rescued the entrails and some of the ruined bread and stood mixing them in a great bowl on the table.  After watching a moment, he covered his mouth with his hand, quickly racing off to find something else to do.  Mauve smiled at his retreating form, then went back to work.

 

While some cooked, others cleaned.  Soon the foul smell of the room was replaced by one of mouth-watering aromas and what was once dull and covered with dirt and grime, now gleamed again.

 

Sometime later, Avery stepped down into the main floor of the kitchen - a place he’d always avoided in the past - to the shock of his life.

 

Young Justin stood there, flour smudged on his face, a kale leaf in his hair, like a warrior triumphant in battle issuing orders to his obedient troops.

 

Justin looked up as the highlander’s third-in-command approached, and blushed bright red.  “I . . . um—”

 

“The occupants of the high table grow restless, acharradh.  ‘Tis past time fer the evening meal.  They sent me ta discover the problem.”

 

Justin hesitated, unsure of which explanation to offer.

 

“That worthless Brenan deserted us,” Mauve said angrily, saving young Evers the trouble.

 

“Sarah,” Justin interrupted, taking back control of the situation, “is that broth ready?”

 

“Aye, acharradh.”

 

“Well,” he said, pointing to two stout men, “you two take it up to them.  And you,” he pointed to Jamie, “you take the bread.  Mind you it’s still hot.” Turning back to the dazed third-in-command, he asked, “You think that’ll appease them until the rest is ready, Avery?”

 

Frowning in confusion, Avery answered, “Aye.  If ye hurry.”

 

“We’ll go as fast as we can.”

 

~~~

 

Fifteen minutes later, Jamie raced back down the stairs.

 

Justin turned from placing the golden-brown lamb upon a platter and frowned in apprehension.  “Is there something wrong?” he asked anxiously, wiping his hands on the cloth tied about his waist.

 

The young boy nodded.  “They want more.”

 

“More?” Justin breathed in astonishment.  “That cauldron weighed more than you do.”

 

“Aye,” the child smiled.  “The MacChoate ate three bowls full and a whole loaf of bread.”

 

Justin sighed.  “Tell him there is no more, but that the rest is coming.”

 

The lad raced away.

 

“Let’s get this over with.”

 

Mauve squeezed the smaller figure's drooping shoulders.  “Take heart, acharradh,” she said softly.  “T’will be all right.”

 

Justin released a heavy sigh.  “I wish I had your confidence.”

 

“You  ‘ave  better than my confidence.”  She smiled.  “You  ‘ave  me.”

 

~~

 

Preceding the food upstairs, Justin froze as Paddy’s glance pierced him like the point of a sword.

 

“Where  ‘ave  ye been, abaisd?” he thundered motioning for young Evers to come forward.  “Ye missed a fine broth.”

 

Katherine watched the bi-play from her place just above the saltcellar.  She had tried to take the seat next to Paddy’s chair, but he had sent her away with a terse command.

 

All the chairs close to him were filled by that time, and the angry woman was lucky to have found one where she did.  Katherine had fully expected the meal to be a disaster, especially since it had taken so long to serve.  But the bread and broth had been excellent.

 

Leaning forward, she strained to hear what was being said.

 

As the young man started forward, he glanced quickly at Avery who smiled back at him.  Why had he not told Paddy where he was?  “I tasted it,” Justin said quietly as he slid into the seat next to the big man.

 

“And what  ‘ave  ye got on yer face?”  Paddy laughed as he wiped at the flour on the young man’s cheek with a cloth.  “What  ‘ave  ye been aboot?  I’ve not seen ye since midday.”

 

Justin turned his face so that Paddy could clean it with his napkin. “I've been in the kitchens.”

 

"The kitchens?" Paddy said in surprise as he picked the kale leaf from Justin's hair and laid it on the table.  “What  ‘ave  ye been doing in the kitchens?”

 

“Helping fix yer meal,” Mauve said as she and Sarah placed the heavy bowl of kale and pork in front of them, then moved on to the children’s table.

 

Paddy eyed his captive in silent surprise.  A quick glance at a scowling Katherine told some of the tale as two men slid the platter of lamb, resting on a bed of steamed leeks and onions, onto the table.  The rest of the servants laid out the remainder of the meal.  The children were fed at their own table, after the upper table residents, but before the lower.

 

As the hall resumed the evening meal, Justin hardly touched his food at all, so intent was he on watching the fluid movements of the man beside him.  He was so beautiful, Justin            thought.  His blood heated at the sight of strong arms lifting a goblet or a bit of food to his mouth.

 

“Why are ye nae eating, siofra?” Paddy asked him suddenly.

 

Justin ducked his head, coloring.  “I—”

 

“All this fine food.  Here.”  The MacChoate held a piece of lamb to Justin’s lips.  “Taste. There isnae enough o’ ye.  Ye need some flesh on yer bones.”

 

Justin swallowed hard to clear the spit from his mouth and opened it to take the meat. Chewing, the smaller man tasted nothing as he lost himself within the dark depths of his captor’s eyes.

 

Paddy fed him various choice tidbits of the meal throughout the evening and Justin ate automatically while he burned from the contact, both physical and visual.

 

Young Evers had never felt so wanton.  Visions of the MacChoate naked swam before his eyes, and he blushed.  That blush deepened as he pictured the larger man’s hands upon him, doing things he’d always imagined lovers did: Paddy's lips upon his, the strong hands and fingers—

 

Justin snatched up his tankard, taking a great gulp of ale to cool himself, and promptly choked.

 

Immediately, Paddy laid down his eating knife to rub the smaller man’s back.  “Are ye all right?” he asked, his voice full of concern.  He took the tankard from Justin's hands.  “Nae more fer ye.”

 

“What ails the acharradh?” Joshua asked from his place to their left.

 

“A bit too strong a drink, it went down the wrong way,” Paddy answered them.

 

Justin tried to clear his head.  “I’m fine!  Really.  I . . . I think I’ll go up to my room.”

 

“Are ye sure ye arenae ailing, leaid?” Avery asked him with a smile, he’d watched the look upon the elf’s face most of the night and could imagine what plagued him. “MacChoate, perhaps ye should see the acharradh ta his bed?”

 

“I’m fine,” Justin said as he quickly rose and hurried off.

 

~~~~~~

 

Bathed and ready for bed, the MacChoate found sleep would not come.

 

Pacing his room like a great, caged beast, the highlander remembered the looks Justin had cast him when the smaller man thought his attention elsewhere.  And after young Evers had fled the hall, his friends had teased him mercilessly about ‘the acharradh's health’, until Paddy had stormed out, too.

 

Now, thoughts of that first time rose in his memory to flay his senses raw.

 

The scent of him, the feel of him, the taste of him.

 

Enough!  Paddy had had enough.  With a blood-chilling growl, the MacChoate snatched up a robe and a candle, and quit the room.

 

~~~

 

A dying fire lit the room with a soft glow.  Justin lay upon the small bed, Madra at her place by the fire gnawing on a bone.  Both arms wrapped around the giant pillow, the smaller man looked very much a child.  His tiny body made little impression beneath the thick fur covers gathered tightly around him.

 

Patrick took a moment to place the wolfhound outside in the hall before returning to sit on the side of the bed.  It dipped under his weight, the motion waking its occupant. Justin blinked a few times sleepily before coming wide-awake and springing away from the huge form.

 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, clutching the covers to his chest like a shield.

 

“I would creid t’was obvious,” Patrick said in amusement.  “Yer ‘little time’ ‘tis up.”

 

“Get out!” he screamed, eyes wide with fear.

 

“Nay,” the MacChoate said gently as he reached out and easily grasped the young man by the wrists, pushing him down flat on the bed, he held his hands on either side of his head. “I saw the way ye looked at me during the evening meal.”

 

Justin thrashed against his hold.  “You’re wrong!”

 

“Do ye intend ta fight me, then?” Patrick smiled, barely exerting energy against his captive’s struggles.  “I warn ye now, a fight willnae do ye good.”

 

Young Evers stopped.  “You think I’m a fool?  I know I’m no match for a monster like you!”

 

“So, ‘tis a monster ye were looking at like ye would rather  ‘ave  me between yer lips than the food on our trencher?”  Patrick laughed aloud at the blush that bloomed on the smooth cheeks.

 

He bowed his back to push his chest against Patrick’s.  “If that’s what you saw, it was a mistake of the light, I assure you.”

 

Patrick leaned forward to brush feather soft kisses over the flushed face.  “Then ye willnae fight?”

 

Justin settled and shook his head.  “No.  But I won’t cooperate with you, either.”

 

As the large man’s lips continued to move gently over his face, Justin had the distressing feeling that his body would go its merry way despite what his mind told it.

 

“I said I wasn’t fool enough to fight you,” Justin murmured with false bravado, “not that I’d respond.”

 

“Mayhaps I can change yer mind then.”  He kissed the pouty lips beneath his own.  “Since ye must gi’e in, regardless, why nae gain a bit o’ pleasure from it?”  He pulled down the covers and began to pull up the long shirt Justin wore to bed.  He noted with amusement that it was the old castoff he had given him the first night and that it reached well below his captive’s knees.

 

Justin could feel the heat of desire seep into his veins despite his battle to staunch it.  The light from the dying fire and the candle MacChoate had brought with him made it easy to see what the laird was doing.

 

In his time at school, Justin had experienced stolen kisses and quick, experimental groping with some of his classmates and peers, but nothing he had done had prepared him for this heady experience.  As the young man found himself succumbing to the pleasures, his father’s hurtful accusations rose to castigate him.

 

Shaking his head from side to side to avoid his captor’s kisses. Justin acknowledged that his heart proved his worst enemy.  He had tried not to, but found he loved this man.  Evers could only pray that the MacChoate would never realize how fully he held him captive in the palm of his hand.

 

Patrick eased the garment off Justin’s rigid body, wishing the young man now beneath him would not hold himself so tensely.  He wanted a response.  He wanted Justin writhing helplessly in passion.  When his gaze fell on the golden skin of the narrow chest and the dark areola of the nipples at his fingertips, his mouth began to water for a taste.  Before his eyes, the deep brown bits of flesh hardened, calling out to him to be caressed, savored, and the pulse of the slender throat bared to him showed him that young Evers’ blood was racing through his veins as much as his was.  The desire within him was clearly winning over any objections he might have.

 

The highlander’s heart soared.  Perhaps he could make the young acharradh love him after all!

 

Slowly, his gaze moved across a flat belly and well-formed legs to become greedily riveted upon the patch of jet-black hair, wherein nestled the prize he sought.

 

“Perfection,” he said, his voice soft and hoarse with need. He slated a hot lick across one nipple. “Ye are the color o’ fresh honey.”

 

“So, from the way you look at me, you think me dessert?”

 

“Ahh, ‘tis the truth of it,” the MacChoate breathed as he took Justin’s growing erection in his hand and began stroking it.  “And I would taste the sweetness of it now,” he said, sliding down the quivering stomach.  Paddy watched the small face as he leaned forward and took the head of the hard manhood he held in his mouth and pulled with suction.

 

Justin’s back rose off the bed, bowing his body into an arch as he began to mew like a kitten.  So startled was he by the heat and friction of the big man’s mouth, he came immediately.

 

And the MacChoate swallowed his gift with great relish.

 

Finally, the young man relaxed back into the furs, panting heavily.  “I am lost,” he whispered, his hands burying themselves in the thick head of hair turned towards him.

 

“‘Tis the sweetest nectar,” Patrick murmured as he licked Justin clean.  “Yer skin feels like the finest silk.  Nay, leannan, nae lost.  Ye are here with me,” he said as he lightly stroked the flushed skin with his fingertips.  “Where ye should be.”

 

“Enough,” Justin whimpered as his muscles quivered at the stimuli.

 

“Nay, we have just begun.” Patrick took the slender legs and placed them over his shoulders.

 

Feeling vulnerable and open, the young man began to protest.  “No!”

 

“‘Tis too late fer that, leannan,” Paddy said, reaching over to retrieve the small vial he’d brought with him.  Justin began to struggle as the large man held him with one hand and worked an oil-slicked finger of the other into the tiny opening.

 

“No,” Justin repeated weakly, even as his body again betrayed him.

 

“Damn,” Paddy said softly, working against the small opening’s resistance, “m’ áille, ye are tight.”

 

“No, please,” Justin begged, even as his hips began to move in time with the finger thrusting in and out of him.

 

Slowly, Patrick inserted a second finger, the whimpering, mewing sounds the lithe body beneath him made while he stretched him, almost his undoing.

 

By the time he’d worked up to three fingers, MacChoate found the secret place inside the tight cavern, and stroked it.  Once again, Justin’s back rose from the bed as his flagging erection sprang to life.

 

Quickly spreading the slickness from his fingers onto his rock hard cock, MacChoate shifted until his member pressed at the loosened opening.

 

He wanted to savor Justin’s passion, the likes of which he had never known before, but soon reached the limit of his endurance.  His strong hands upon the slim hips to hold the young man steady, he eased into him, gritting his teeth against his body’s urge to plunge into the heated depth that beckoned him.

 

Justin cried out in pain, struggling against the intrusion, against the grip that held him still. And Patrick knew.

 

“Ye  ‘ave nae done this afore,  ‘ave  ye?” he asked faintly as he smoothed damp hair from the sweaty forehead beneath him.

 

Justin shook his head.  “It hurts,” he whispered a little tearfully.  “Can we stop now?”

 

“Nay, ‘tis the sweetest sheath I  ‘ave  e’er know, leannan.”  He moved his hips, gently edging in deeper.  “I am loath ta leave it.”  Reaching out, he took the now half-hard erection of his young lover in his hands.  “Let me see if I cannae make it better.” And he began to stroke as he rocked his hips in tiny forward motions to ease himself in deeper.

 

Justin moaned and panted at each movement that drove the cock inside him. Then slowly, the pain began to ease, to gradually be replaced by pleasure. Soon the pleasure had his hips answering the rhythm Patrick had set.

 

“Aye,” the highlander groaned in a voice trembling with passion.  “Now ye  ‘ave  the way o’ it.  Ye parry m’ thrust.  Take me so deep inside ye that I cannae find m’ way out again. Come, acharradh. Meld us into one.”

 

Suddenly, Justin found himself riding the crest of a dangerously high wind.  Higher, higher, faster, faster, until he couldn’t breathe, think, or feel.  Then, in the blink of an eye, he was falling.  Straight down from a mountaintop, over a precipice, the contractions of his inner muscles taking the MacChoate with him.

 

~~~

 

Justin woke to a warmth and security he had never felt or known before.  He snuggled into it, sighing contentedly.  Then it came rushing back to him, and he pulled away.

 

“What is it, leannan?” MacChoate asked as he reached out to draw his lover back against him.

 

“You got what you wanted.  Shouldn’t you go back to your own bed now?”

 

Patrick smiled.  “Aye. ‘tis more room there, truth.”  He swung his legs from the cramped position they’d been in on the trundle bed and missed the distressed expression that crossed the smaller man's face.

 

Returning with a small pan of warm water and a cleaning cloth, the highlander was taken aback by the forlorn figure curled in the center of the bed.

 

He placed the water and cloth on a nearby table and sat next to Justin, smoothing back the hair that hid his face.

 

“What ails ye, leannan?  Did I hurt ye?”

 

Justin shook his head.  “You don’t have to call me that,” Justin whispered sadly.

 

“I dinnae?  And why is that?  Do ye know what it means?”

 

“You have what you wanted, now.  You don’t have to sweet talk me.”

 

“Aye,” MacChoate said gently, his face alight with his smile.  “I  ‘ave  what I wanted.”

 

“Before, I was a conquest.  What am I now?  A whore?”

 

The highlander took the small figure by the shoulders to lift him bodily from the bed.  When he had Justin’s eyes level with his own, he shook him once, violently enough to snap his head back.  “Dinnae e'er let me hear ye say that again!” he said angrily.  “Do ye ken?”

 

“But that’s what I am.”

 

“Justin!”  He shook him again.  “‘Tis nae the way o’ it!”

 

“You had me like a woman,” Justin whispered.  “And I liked it.  You proved my father right, all the things he’s said about me.”  A tear trailed down his cheek to splash on the strong hand that held him by the arms.

 

“Ach, acharradh,” Paddy said as he loosened his grip, “dinnae cry. I cannae stand it!  T’was the sweetest gift ye gave me.”

 

Justin’s eyes went wide.  “I didn’t give you anything!” he corrected hotly.

 

Anger clouded Paddy’s features.  “I dinnae ravish ye, either!” the highlander thundered, then quieted immediately at Justin’s look of fear.  “Seduced, mayhaps, but nae ravish. And, truth, I cannae gi’e ye back yer innocence.”  He laughed.  “Even if I could, I would only take it again.”  He smiled down indulgently at the small, disheartened face.

 

Justin was not moved and demanded, “And now what?  You turn me over to your men? Trade me?  Sell me to another?”

 

“I . . . what?”

 

“You got what you wanted.  I’m no more use to you.  You were leaving me.”

 

“I but went ta the hearth ta get water fer washing.”  He indicated the items on the table with a motion of his head.

 

Justin followed the gaze and frowned.  “But you agreed your bed was better.”

 

“Aye, ‘tis true.  Big enough fer two.”  He lowered his charge back to the furs and reached for the cloth.  Dipping it into the water, he squeezed out the excess.

 

“For two?” Justin murmured, watching him with great eyes.

 

MacChoate arranged the smaller man's limbs and began to wash the dried semen and faint traces of blood away.  “Aye.”

 

“Me? And you?” he asked, moving as the hands directed him, letting the larger man wash him clean, blushing slightly at the intimate touch on his bottom.

 

MacChoate dipped the cloth again and wiped his own genitals, stomach and chest.  “There was someone else ye had in mind?”

 

Justin hastily looked away.  “I . . . no.”

 

“Good,” he said cheerfully.  Pulling on his robe, the highlander then gathered Justin and the furs up in his arms. “I wouldnae want ta  ‘ave  ta fight them fer ye.”

 

Justin clutched strong shoulders for balance. “Fight . . . for me?”

 

“Aye.”  Paddy shifted the fur-wrapped bundle more securely in his arms.  “I have other things I would rather be doing.”

 

“You do?”

 

“Aye, siofra,” the highlander laughed as he lifted the door latch with one hand. “I will be showing ye afore long.” And he kicked the door open with his foot and started towards his suite, the wolfhound following at a distance.

 

~~~

 

The next day, Mauve brought Justin a woman from the village, a widow living in near poverty. She found the young man ankle-deep in the mud of the Dichiollach's garden, Madra lying nearby.

 

"What are ye doing, mon?" the large woman asked him with surprise.

 

Justin looked a sight.  Dressed in his own old clothes recovered from the caravan booty by Joshua, he looked like a child that had rolled in the mud.

 

“This garden was a disgrace.  It was a wonder anything grew.”

 

“Ye should have someone ta help ye.”

 

“I sent the children inside to search for seeds.”

 

“They dinnae know where ta look.  I will go help them.  First, this is Ada.”

 

Justin and the woman exchanged nods.  She was just a bit taller than he, but seemed mostly skin and bones.

 

“She’s a fine cook, and all her family is gone.  I thought we could use her in the kitchens.”

 

Justin looked at her.  “You can handle meals for the entire castle?”

 

“Aye,” the woman said.  “I am used ta cooking fer a large household.”

 

Still skeptical of her culinary skills due to her skeletal appearance, but trusting the sturdily built woman, he said,  “If Mauve recommends you—”

 

“Highly, acharradh,” Mauve said firmly.

 

Justin smiled. “I guess you should get to it, then.  Paddy and his men went on a hunt this morning.  I hope they’ll have fresh game with them when they return.”

 

~~

 

Justin’s back ached before he stopped again.  The furrows for the entire garden were nearly finished.  Jamie, Callie and Meghan walked behind him, spreading seeds and cackling like hens.

 

Suddenly, all three noticed a horse and rider approaching.  The sun behind the largest figure threw his features in the shadows.

 

“Ye look like a cluain nábaidh,” rumbled a deep, familiar voice.

 

The children stopped what they were doing to hide their giggles behind grubby hands.

 

“Since I don’t know what that is, I assume you joke about my appearance,” Justin said arrogantly as he rubbed his nose with his hand, smearing the mud on his face and ruining the effect.

 

Paddy swung down from the saddle.  “Aye,: he laughed.  “I cannae see a patch o’ skin on ye that isnae covered with muck.”

 

“As much as you eat I’d think you’d be happy I’m trying to grow food to feed you,” young Evers told him as he backed away from MacChoate’s advance.

 

The highlander caught him easily.  “Aye, that I am, but I creid ta satisfy another appetite now, aimlisg,” he said as he swung Justin over his shoulder and headed for the bailey. “Mauve!” he bellowed as he strode through the hall.  “Hot water for a bath!”

 

“No!  Paddy!” the smaller man hissed as he beat ineffectually at the broad back beneath him.  “Where—?”  Seeing their destination, he pleaded, “Don’t carry me through the hall like this!  Don’t!  Paddy!  Wait!  Go first.  I’ll slip up after you.  I promise!”  After glancing at the amused faces of those they passed, Justin hid his heating face within the folds of his captor’s tartan, smearing mud there in the process.  “Paddy, they’ll know,” he whispered, mortified at the situation.

 

The highlander’s loud laughter echoed throughout the hall.  “And ye bóid I care?  ‘Tis   fine they ken!  ‘Tis what I wish!  I willnae be ashamed of what we do, siofra.”

 

“But, Paddy!” Justin said, his voice quavering as the big man carried them up the stairs. “The sun is still high!”

 

“It won’t be afore the time we see the hall again!” the big man roared as he kicked the door to his room closed behind them.

 

~~~

 

The MacChoate stood, naked except for a robe, and watched as the last of his people left the chamber; the bath steaming by the fire.

 

Equally naked under his robe, Justin had settled into a far corner of the room, his back to the preparations, too embarrassed to face anyone.

 

The big man walked to one of the chairs by the fire and sat down.  “Come here,” he said softly.

 

Justin turned a pouty face to his lover and reluctantly approached him to stand between his outstretched legs.

 

Reaching up, the highlander worked the braid loose, spreading the hair about Justin's shoulders.  “Ye washed me last.  Now ‘tis m’ turn,” he said, sliding the robe from slender shoulders.  Quickly undressing himself, Paddy took Justin in his arms and carried him to the tub. Standing the young man in it, he climbed in after him.

 

“Are ye cold?” he asked, seeing Justin shiver.

 

“A little,” came the soft reply.

 

Turning the smaller figure, the highlander quickly washed the dirt from his lover's locks and body, then his own and stepped from the tub.

 

Briskly drying Justin's hair with a cloth, he wrapped them in the warm drying sheets and strode to the bed.

 

Stretching out upon the furs, Paddy pulled the younger man to lie across his chest, Justin's damp hair flowing free around them as Paddy combed his fingers through it.

 

“Ach,” he breathed in a wonder-filled sigh, ‘tis glorious, yer hair.”

 

Justin smiled as he shook his head, tickling the highlander's skin with its ends.  “You like it?”

 

The big man hissed in pleasure.  “Aye, it suits ye.”

 

Justin's joyous features crumbled.  “My father didn’t think so.  He tried to make me cut it off several times.”

 

Paddy caught the back of Justin's head with his hand and pulled the young man down. “He isnae here,” he growled, the deepness of his voice reverberating through the hard, muscled walls of the chest Justin rested upon.

 

“If he were—”

 

“He isnae here, leannan,” Paddy repeated a second time before silencing the young man with his mouth.  “Make love ta me,” the highlander demanded in a voice husky with passion.

 

“I want to, very much.” Justin lowered his eyes in embarrassment.  “But, I . . . I don’t know how.”

 

“Aye, ye do.”  He took Justin’s hand and brought it to his lips to kiss the palm.  “Show me what ye feel.”

 

Without another word Justin reached out and touched the highlander’s chest, rubbing and caressing his nipples.  The dark brown flesh rose proud and strong under the young man's fingertips, encouraging him further.  Shyly, Justin bent down and took one in his mouth. At Paddy’s moan, he froze.

 

“Nay, suiteas, dinnae stop!” the big man groaned.  “Déan dhomh.”

 

Justin took the nipple back into his mouth and swirled it with his tongue.  When he had it congested to an arrow point, he moved to the other, sucking it until Paddy shifted restlessly beneath him.

 

“You are like the statues in my mother’s garden,” Justin whispered as he sat back admiring his work.  “So beautiful, so perfect.”

 

Paddy laughed.  No one had ever said sweet things to him like that.  “‘Tis a scarred old warrior ye see.”

 

Justin's hands moved down to caress the muscles of Paddy’s stomach, causing them to jerk and quiver.  “No.  Not so,” he whispered, pulling Paddy’s head up to lean in for a kiss.

 

The highlander put his arms around his young lover and pulled Justin to him tightly, their hands exploring, reaching, touching, caressing, and responding; their hard cocks rubbing together.

 

“Uhhh, umm,” Justin moaned, his hips moving in circles of pleasure as Paddy's hands cupped his ass cheeks, pushing down to help him grind their erections together.  The young man knew he would spill his seed soon - he wanted to – longed to –

 

“Are ye going ta cum fer me, blasda?”

 

“Oh, Paddy,” Justin panted.  “I’m sorry, but it feels so good.”  Then, he began to moan as his orgasm overtook him.  “Ahhhh,” he cried in ecstasy, before collapsing on the broad chest; his quick, sharp panting slowly subsiding into lazy sighs.

 

The highlander's hands reached up to the smaller man's face and caressed it. “Ye  ‘ave nae fallen asleep,  ‘ave  ye?”

 

“No,” Justin moved his head enough to kiss Paddy's chest and nuzzled into him.  “You must think me wanton.”

 

“Aye, but ‘tis nae a bad thing.”

 

Justin shifted, Paddy's erection pressing insistently into his stomach.  He blushed a deep crimson.  “You haven’t – ” Unable to finish the sentence because of his embarrassment at the shameless thoughts that blossomed in this mind, the young man sat up, searching among the furs.  “Where is the oil?”

 

Paddy stilled the searching hands with his.  “Ye arenae sore?”

 

Justin’s blush deepened as looked away.  “Well . . . yes,” he confessed hesitantly.  “But –”

 

“I willnae hurt you, abaisd when we love.  Tisnae aboot that.”

 

“But – ” Justin sputtered to a halt, gesturing helpless at the highlander’s blood engorged cock.

 

Paddy smiled at the discomfort written on the small face.  “Use yer mouth,” he suggested, voice low and seductive.

 

Justin looked back, startled.  “My mouth?”

 

“Aye.”  Paddy took the young man’s hand and wrapped it around his manhood.  “Like it was a bit o’ sweet.”

 

Justin frowned, not understanding.

 

“Like I did the first night.”

 

Smiling shyly at the memory, Justin hesitated only a few moments before leaning forward, languorously, until his lips barely touched the swollen head.

 

The heat of the younger man’s exhaled breath caused Paddy to gasp and his cock to jerk in Justin's hand.

 

Justin smiled in triumph, and a heady rush of power, as he took the whole erection into his mouth, fighting not to gag.

 

“Garrach!”

 

Surrounded, overwhelmed with the feeling, the highlander could swear this fey creature burned with fever, so hot was the dark cavern of his mouth.

 

Slowly, the young man pulled the hard, thick length of his lover inside his mouth until his nose almost nestled in Paddy’s groin.  And then he began to hum.

 

The highlander clutched helplessly at the furs beneath him, fighting the urge to thrust up fiercely into that mouth.  As Justin pulled, the pressure proved too much – the big man came with a warrior’s shout that ended in a sigh.  He shifted and pulled the smaller man up, fitting their bodies together.

 

Sometime later, the highlander became aware that a quiet sadness had settled over his little love like a heavy blanket.

 

“He isnae here, aillse,” he said softly into Justin’s ear.  “And the things he said aboot ye arenae true.”

 

“Like a woman, Paddy,” Justin said, his voice quivering.

 

“Nay, siofra, better, sweeter and more precious ta me.”

 

Justin nodded and Paddy pulled him back flush against his body.

 

“Yer first day here, ye said I was the son yer athair wanted.”

 

Justin sighed.  “You are.”

 

“And I say, ye are the son mine would  ‘ave  liked.”

 

Justin made a rude noise.

 

“Nay.  Ye  ‘ave  the refined manners o’ a courtly gentleman—”

 

Justin made another noise.

 

The highlander gave the rounded bottom beneath his hand a squeeze.  “Another farm noise from ye, droch sióg, and I will paddle yer seat.”

 

“Is duilich leam, Paddy,” Justin said as meekly as he could manage.

 

The Scottish words had the desired effect on Paddy’s ruffled feathers.  “M' aithair was a wanderer, like yers.  Lesser son o’ a lower Sassenach noble house, he sought his fortune on foreign shores.”

 

“Like here?”

 

“Aye.  He saw m’ máthair at the Scottish court, and fell in love with her.”

 

“Did she love him back?”

 

“Aye.  Enough ta defy her aithair and run away with him.”

 

Justin sighed softly as he rubbed his cheek against the hard chest.  “That’s beautiful, Paddy.”

 

Now the highlander made the rude noise.  “They lived tagether in poverty in a mud huddle until m’seanathair found them and sent men ta bring her home.  I had been born by then and she wouldnae leave us.”

 

“Did he come back with her, your father?”

 

“Aye.”  He waved his hand through the air.  “”Who wouldnae choose this over a hollowed out mound of dirt.  But this land was too uncivilized fer Sir Oliver Choate.  He fought the highland ways until the day he died.”

 

Justin turned in his lover’s arms until he could look down into his face.  “He called you uncivilized?”

 

Paddy smoothed a finger down the soft cheek.  “That t’was the kindest thing he called me, áilleagan,” he said sadly.  “He tried ta make me into a noble laird, an English dandy, like himself.  Something he could show off at court.”

 

Justin chuckled.

 

“I dinnae say anything amusing,” Paddy said, bristling again.

 

“I was picturing you in satin and silk hose at English court.”

 

“Ye creid me a great buffoon?  Such finery a waste on a lumbering ox like myself?” Paddy said angrily.

 

Justin touched his highlander’s lips to still them.  “I think you beautiful in anything.”  He paused, his face heating.  “Or nothing at all,” he continued, before lowering his eyes.

 

Paddy barked with laughter.  “Ach, blasda,” he pulled the young man's head up to kiss him.  “We will help each other heal,” the highlander told him as his body began to move to the primal rhythm of love.

 

~~

 

Later, Justin stirred, his stomach growling loud enough to wake him.  The bed he lay upon started to shake, startling him enough to sit up.  He found himself looking up into Paddy’s face.

 

“Fer such a tiny thing, ye make a great noise.”

 

“Somebody made me miss supper,” Justin said, frowning at his lover in the dimming light.

 

Paddy applied a stinging pat to the rounded bottom under his hand.  “Bleidell acharradh.”

 

Before Justin had a chance to voice his outrage, Paddy had him up and out of the bed.

 

“What are you doing?” the young man asked as he reached out to grasp something for balance.

 

“Dressing ye so we can go downstairs,” the big man said as he pulled a shirt over Justin’s head.

 

Small hands batted larger ones away.  “I’m not going down there.”

 

Paddy turned to retrieve his own shirt.  “I dinnae ken.”

 

“They know,” Justin hissed, avoiding the knitted hose Paddy tried to draw on his feet.

 

“They creid what, acharradh?” he asked, easily catching a flailing leg to begin to pull the leg wear over it.

 

“What we’ve been doing up here!”

 

“Aye,” he said distractedly as he caught the other leg.

 

“I can’t face them, Paddy! Oh!” Justin cried as the big man flipped him to pull the brases into place.

 

“Aye, ye can and ye will,” he said, tying them then pulling the long shirt over his lover’s head.

 

“No!” Justin said, while ineffectually batting the hands away.

 

Paddy took a moment to belt his tartan into place before turning back to his little lover. “Aye, ye will go on yer own or I will carry ye tossed across m’ shoulders, but not afore I use m’ hand to make yer bottom red fer defying me.”

 

Justin placed his hands on his hips as he scowled up at the big man. “That’s not fair!”

 

“Make yer choice, abaisd!”  Paddy said, scowling back.

 

“I don’t want to go down there, Paddy!”

 

“Fine,” the highlander said as he clasped the smaller man by the arm and drew him towards a chair.

 

Justin dug in his heels.  “But I will!” he screeched.

 

Paddy stopped pulling and looked back with a smile.  “A good choice,” he said, laughing as he released Justin and opened the door.

 

“It wasn’t a choice at all,” young Evers said as he preceded him in the hall hastened along by a swat from his lover.

 

~~~

 

Ada’s meal was a delight. To Paddy’s happiness, his brat consumed more than he’d ever seen him eat, and, after sharing a large helping of trifle (actually, Paddy ate most of the spongy cake covered with jam and clotted cream), the highlander allowed Justin a glass of watered sweet wine.

 

Unknown to them, Katherine switched the tankards, giving Justin unwatered mead instead.

 

It took an hour for Justin to empty one-half the tankard.  Now he swayed in his seat, a lop-sided grin on his face.

 

“Ach, mon, yer pixie’s three sheets ‘n the wind!” Joshua told the highlander, laughing out loud.

 

Paddy turned to see Justin sway, and caught him before he fell from the chair.  “By the saints, abaisd, what ‘er ye aboot?  Can ye nay stomach the fruited water?  Must I put ye at the children’s table?”

 

Justin looked at Paddy with great ‘cow’ eyes and frowned.  He knew Paddy was angry but couldn’t understand the reason why.  Swaying forward almost into the larger man’s lap, he slurred, “Wha’d I do?”  Then promptly fell face first into his lover’s plaid.

 

“Mayhaps we need search the village for a wet nurse,” Avery howled, “He cannae hold cow’s milk, either, Paddy!”

 

“’int no baby!” Justin bristled. “Drin’ ‘ine ‘ll th’ it at ‘ome.”

 

The highlander took the tankard from the young man’s hands, smelled it then took a drink :‘tis mead!  And nae watered!  Who brought him this?”

 

Mauve called, “I did.  And t’was watered wine, m’laird.”

 

“And, unless ye ‘er become daoine shi’ and turned this drink,” he said angrily, the scowl on his face enough to cause half the upper table to take a step back, “tisnae now.”

 

“’picked up t’ wrong tank’d, Paddy,” the young man soothed. “No harm.  Oh.” He swayed again.  “But I don’t feel well.”

 

“Aye, Paddy, take the acharradh ta bed!” someone called out.

 

“Aye, we’ll nae see them again ‘til morning!”

 

“I wager nae ‘fore noon!" called someone else.

 

The entire hall erupted into laughter, but Justin heard nothing, fast asleep almost before Paddy swept him up into his arms.

 

As the as the pair disappeared up the stairs, Katherine watched them with only half satisfaction.  Justin was out of the way for the evening, but the laird had left with him.

 

~~~~~~

 

A fortnight under Justin’s watchful eyes and the castle improved tenfold under his direction . . . and Katherine’s hatred of him increased to near madness.

 

Justin found a place of respect within the MacChoate household.  The men treating him like a much-loved son, or nephew, and the laird’s mate.  None dared mistreat him for fear of feeling the wrath of the MacChoate or his second and third in command.

 

Justin had brought up the word ‘whore’ once more in Patrick’s presence and had received a swat to his behind that nearly rattled his teeth from his head and left the imprint of its bearer’s hand for days.  From then on he’d kept his mouth shut, and managed the castle to the best of his ability.  Gradually, the inhabitants began looking more to him for guidance, and less to Katherine.

 

Jealousy raged inside the woman.  She thought it hypocritical that the MacChoate had taken his pleasure in her after his wife had left him, then abandoned her when this . . . creature had appeared.

 

She had tried repeatedly to woo her laird back to her bed, only to be spurned and cast aside.  After one last failure, she became determined to make the little man’s life as miserable as possible.

 

Soon afterward, little annoying things began to occur: like salt in the sugar cellar, the wine gone sour, strange herbs in the soup, the plate of cookies baked for the laird (his favorite kind) disappearing from the kitchen only to reappear in the pig pen.

 

The crowning touch was hot-pepper-sauce placed in the vial of oil Justin and Patrick used as lubricant during lovemaking.

 

Had it not been for the passionate kisses Justin chose to steal, interrupting his lover as Paddy began to prepare him, and MacChoate catching the scent of the oil on his fingers while he held Justin's head still to adequately plunder his mouth, the result could have been disastrous.

 

Justin suspected Katherine, but had no proof.

 

But Katherine became too bold one night during the evening meal.  The men where still out scouting.  The ladies and Justin took a light repast, awaiting their return for the main meal.

 

“Ye would creid someone would be looking fer ye ‘er now, Sassenach,” Katherine sneered from her place by the fire.

“No, Katherine,” Justin said in weary reply to this well-worn subject.  “My father would be more interested in what happened to his merchandise than what happened to me.”

 

“Ye would creid a son would be worth more ta a athair than a bit o’ cloth and spices.”  She looked the young man up and down in disgust.  “Unless that son was nae a son.”

 

Justin looked up from his game of chess with Jaime.  “I was a son to my father, Katherine, just not the son he wanted.”

 

She snorted as she looked up from her needlework.  “Nay, more a daughter, ta m’ way o’ seeing.”

 

“Yes.  He said that to me often enough.”

 

“And ye  ‘ave  nae shame?”

 

“No shame in what?  Being what I am?”

 

So deep into their argument, neither saw Patrick, Joshua and Avery silently enter through a side door.

 

“And what are ye?  Nothing but the MacChoate’s oainjyr!  How long afore he tires o’ ye?”

 

“I don't know, Katherine,” Justin said softly, “How long before he tired of you?”

 

Patrick made to step forward from the shadows, only to be restrained by Joshua’s arm, his look and shake of his head quietly telling the MacChoate to let the drama run its course.

 

“How dare ye?”  Katherine hissed and rose to stand over Justin.

 

Justin rose to his feet also.  “We’ll say you’ve had too much wine, Katherine.  Stop now, before you say something and it’s too late to take it back.”

 

“Ye ‘re just afraid o’ the truth!” she said loudly.  “The MacChoate ‘tis a man!  He cannae settle fer what ye ‘re offering him fer too long!  He’ll come back ta me!”

 

“Then fine!  If he goes, I’ll not stop him.  If I couldn’t keep him, I’ll not try to steal him back or beg him back.  You’re welcome to him.”

 

“Ye creid I cannae take him from ye?” Katherine sneered evilly.

 

“I don’t know, Katherine.  Who shares his bed now?”

 

“Wha’” she sputtered, eyes round as plates and mouth working like a landed fish.

 

“If Paddy were all the man you claim him to be,” Justin countered, “no one could take him anywhere he didn’t want to go.  Could they?”

 

With a cry of pure rage, Katherine took a step forward and backhanded young Evers across the face.

 

Again, Joshua restrained the MacChoate, this time whispering in his ear: “He wouldnae thank ye fer interfering, Paddy.  If he cannae defend himself from a woman, he will lose the place he has fought so hard fer in yer household.”

 

Because Katherine outweighed him by more than a few pounds and topped him an inch, the force of the blow sent Justin staggering back off his feet into the table.  Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth with one hand, he reacted instinctively.  From anger suppressed for too many days, and a healthy jealousy, he struck back.  Bringing a small fist up from his hip in a smooth swing, he dealt the harpy a blow to the jaw that sent her sprawling to the floor and kept her there.

 

A surprised silence fell over the hall.

 

Paddy, Joshua and Avery finally stepped into the light.

 

“She’s yours, Paddy,” Justin said quietly.  “Since she’s bragged to me countless times about knowing how to please you.”  Justin stepped over the body on his way above stairs. “Although I fear you will have to wake her up to enjoy her talents.”  Halfway up the stairs, his voice filtered below.  “Unless lying like a corpse one of the things that pleased you about her.”

 

The men stared at the retreating form until it was out of sight.

 

Joshua was the first to regain his senses.  “Ach, mon!  Did ye see that?”

 

“Aye, I  ‘ave  wanted ta do that ta her fer years now,” Avery laughed.

 

“A finer bitch I  ‘ave  ne’er known.”

 

Paddy finally roused himself and walked over to the high table.  He picked up a tankard of ale and tossed it into the unconscious woman's face.

 

Katherine immediately sat up, sputtering and gasping for breath.

 

Standing there watching as she gained her feet, Paddy wondered what he’d ever seen in this woman.  Admitting finally, it had been lust.

 

“That . . . beanag struck me!” she wailed as she struggled, unaided, to her feet.

 

“Aye,” Joshua laughed.  “And a bonny strike it was considering ye outweigh the buachaill almost two stone!”

 

Katherine's face turned a mottled red.  “‘tis a lie!  Ye take that back Joshua Stillman!”

 

“Or what, woman?  Ye'll hit me, too?  Ye started it, Kate Campbell.  From what I’m seeing, ye got what ye deserved!”

 

She turned to the MacChoate.  “Will ye nae say something, Paddy?”

 

“Aye.  I say I creid it best if ye go home on the morrow, Katherine,” the MacChoate told her as he started towards the stairs.

 

“What?!  Ye would send me home because of that . . . oainjyr?"

 

The speed which the highlander spun back to face her froze all in the hall.  “His name is Justin,” he snarled, his eyes dark with rage.  “He is of the House of Evers in England.  He is a man.  Aye, he is m’lover, but that nae makes him a whore.  He was virgin when he came ta me.”  MacChoate looked her up and down.  “Which is more than I can say fer some.”

 

Katherine’s face turned a ghostly white.  “Boiteag . . . buachar . . . basdardd,” she sputtered.

 

“Joshua!” he bellowed.  “I  ‘ave  changed my mind.  Find someone ta escort the . . . lady . . ." he said the word contemptuously, "Katherine home ta night.  I wish her from m’ sight.  Take her as she stands.  I will send her belongings after her.”

 

And he strode from the hall, oblivious to the curses the woman rained down upon his head.

 

~~~

 

Above stairs, Paddy found the door to his chamber standing wide. Cautiously stepping inside, he found Justin chaotically gathering up his clothes.

 

“What are ye aboot now?”

 

In a voice full of hurt and anger, Justin told him, “I’m going back to my little room until I can find a way to get back home.”

 

The big man caught Justin’s arm.  “I dinnae tuig.”

 

Justin pulled hard in a vain attempt to free himself.  “You don’t own me, Patrick MacChoate.”

 

Shaking young Evers, he repeated, “I dinnae tuig.”

 

“What is there to understand?  I want to go home.”

 

“Fer all yer bluster, I willnae let ye move from this room until you make me see.”

 

“Are you going to tie me to the bed?” Justin challenged.

 

The highlander pulled the smaller man up hard against his chest and smiled a seductive smile.  “Ach, a fine idea, abaisd.  I bóid I will strip ye naked first.”

 

The flush blooming on Justin’s face flowed straight to his groin as he struggled against the steely grip.  “Did you tie Katherine down before you fucked her?”

 

MacChoate released the young man as if he burned.  “What?”

 

“Did she take you in her mouth like a bit o’ sweet?” he asked, mockingly.  “Did you ever think to put your manhood up her arse?”

 

Rubbing the bludgeoning proof of his desire against Justin's stomach, MacChoate growled.  “Ye  ‘ave  grown a vulgar mouth, abaisd.”

 

“That’s not what you said to me last eve,” Justin countered as he shifted away.  “What does oainjyr mean?  No one here will tell me.  I know beanag is a woman.”

 

Paddy pulled his lover back against him.  “Ye ‘re working too hard fer a paddling I know you dinnae dìth, droch sióg,” he said as he leaned down to nuzzle Justin’s neck.  “Twill benefit ye greatly ta leave Katherine from this room.”

 

“Why?  According to her, she’s been in here quite often.”

 

“Not as often as she boasts.”

 

“How often then, Paddy?  Fifteen?  Twenty times?”

 

MacChoate straightened.  “I dinnae count,” the highlander said sullenly.

 

Justin’s face wore a look of mock surprise.  “More than that?”

 

“Nay,” Paddy barked as he released his young lover.

 

“Less, then?” Justin demanded, taking a defensive stance with both hands on his hips.

 

“Be still, droch sióg!” the MacChoate warned menacingly.

 

“I want to know.”

 

“I dinnae ken . . .”

 

“Do you love her?”

 

That thought horrified Paddy.  “Nay!”

 

“Then why’d you fuck her to begin with?”

 

The frustrated highlander ran both hands through his hair.  “Because I had a need and she was there, Justin,” he confessed at last, not knowing what else to say.

 

The smaller man went still.  “Like me?” he asked softly, heather-soft eyes large and sparkling with unshed tears.

 

Realizing his mistake too late, Paddy reached out.  “Nay! ‘tis nae the way o’ it!”

 

But Justin was backing out the door.  “Was she easier to seduce than me?”

 

“Bullocks!  I dinnae ‘ave ta seduce her, droch sióg.  Come back here!  She threw herself at me.”

 

As young Evers turned to flee, Paddy lunged for him. Almost catching the end of his shirt.  He tripped over Madra at the threshold causing the poor dog to yelp before racing after her young master.

 

When the highlander had regained his balance, his lover had gone.

 

The moment the laird started down the hall after Justin, Stillman poked his head around the stairwell.  “Paddy?” he asked, tentatively.

 

“What is it, mon?!” he snapped.

 

Stillman blinked hard at his laird’s tone, but continued, “The scouts  ‘ave  returned from our land’s border ta the north.  I creid ye should speak with them.”

 

Giving the empty corridor one final, longing look, Paddy followed Joshua down the stairs.

 

“Well, mon?  Spit it out!” the laird demanded as he walked the length of the high table restlessly.  “I dinna ‘ave the night

 

The first scout stepped forward.  “We  ‘ave  a report o’ a raided MacChoate holding along the northern border, m’ laird.”

 

Paddy sat down heavily in the hall/s great chair.  “MacDougal’s land borders ours on the north,” he said thoughtfully.

 

“Aye,” the second scout said.

 

“We ‘ave nae quarrel with Ginnis MacDougal,” Paddy said, almost as if talking to himself.  “Did ye see this thing?”

 

“Nay, m’laird.  We came ta give the report ta ye,” the first scout told him.

 

“Should we go back, sir?” asked the second.

 

“Nay.  On the morrow, first we will take twenty men and go ta see fer ourselves.”

 

~~~

 

Patrick raised his arm to signal his men forward in the march.  The great warhorse he rode, Rinceoir, pawed at the half-frozen earth.  The men leaned forward in restlessly anticipation.  Still, the great man paused, casting one final glance back at the empty battlements of his castle.  He wished they had not quarrelled last eve.  Bitter, angry words stood between them.  The fiery-tempered little imp was worst than a woman!  Paddy sighed, and he loved him more than any woman.  Patrick had searched the castle, but could find neither hide nor hair of Justin.  He didn't want to go to what could be a battle with unkind thoughts of their last time together.

 

“M’laird,” Joshua said softly.  “We must be gone.”

 

“Aye,” Patrick said sadly, and he brought his arm down sharply.  The great horse beneath him surged forward, tugging at the reins.

 

“Paddy!”

 

The entire group turned back to the castle at the desperate cry of their leader’s name.

 

Leaning over the parapets stood the elfin form of Justin.  In his hand he held a silken tie of the shade of crimson he favored.  Releasing it, the wind billowed out the material for a moment, then, like a great bird, it spread its wings and soared across the sky.

 

Paddy watched it in wonder as the cold, early morning breeze brought the strip of color closer and closer until, finally, it seemed to hover so that he could grasp it in his hand.

 

It smelled of Justin and promises.

 

“This thing isn’t finished between us, MacChoate.  You come back to me!” the young man screamed so he could be heard, “Safe and unharmed!  Do you hear me, gaidheal?”

 

“Aye, m’cridhe!” the big man called back.  “I and all the counties o’ the Loch ‘ear ye!” And he laughed tucking the cloth away as he put his heels to his horse, a burden now lifted from his chest.  “And ye will be staying put, safe behind these walls.  Did ye ‘ear me?” Paddy yelled up at his imp.

 

Justin hesitated only a moment.  “I, and all the counties of the Loc, hear ye, m’ blasda!" he answered at last.

 

Paddy laughed.  “The MacChoate!” he cried out and it echoed across the morning air.

 

“The MacChoate!”  His men’s voices raised to join his as they rode through the castle gate.

 

And on the battlements, a small figure watched them ride away fighting back a flood of tears.

 

~~~~~~

 

Exhausted from worry, Justin quit the great hall early.  The young man quickly finished with his nighttime rituals and climbed into bed.  Clutching his lover’s pillow tightly, Justin curled upon the bed and fell into a trouble slumber.

 

A scant hour later, young Evers woke from the dream with a start.  Drenched in sweat, quaking as if from a fever.  The images refused to fade from his memory.  He had seen his Paddy on a field of heather, lying broken and bleeding on the ground, the victim of a treachery.

 

He knew he had to warn them.

 

Throwing off the covers, he swung his feet from the bed.  Grabbing up one of Paddy’s shirts, he slipped it over his head, quickly pulling on a pair of woolen hose.  Sliding his feet into soft leather boots lined in rabbit fur, Justin tightly tied the leather bindings that held them in place.  He then pulled a length of green wool from a chest and began wrapping it around himself as he slipped from the room.

 

~~~

 

Puffed up with pride at his accomplishment, Andrew Fergusson waved his men to silence.  Getting MacChoate and his clan out in force had been almost too easy.  The dark-hearted man laughed to himself.  Bullying a farmer on a border away from his own. Not enough to start a war, but enough to bring the laird out to tend his flock, then shift the blame.

 

His enemy was only a half league away and he hoped to ambush them in the near darkness of the time before the coming dawn.  He passed the word to attack as soon as the sun came over the hill behind them.

 

Justin had ridden a mare all night to catch up to the clan MacChoate.  Now, having hid her in a small thicket, he ran with all his might.  Quickly reaching the crest of a great hill, Justin stood on the ridge and looked down.  Below, he could see Paddy's clansmen riding steadily towards MacDougal's border.  They would be there shortly. Justin started over the rise and down towards the body of men, only to be stopped by movement to his right.

 

Turning in that direction, he saw another body of men less than two miles behind Paddy moving stealthily.

 

Why would some of the MacChoate men lag so far behind the main body of . . . then he recognized the tartan they wore from the day his caravan was attacked.  That pattern would be etched in his mind forever.

 

Not knowing what else to do, Justin drew in a great lungful of air and began to scream like a bean sìth.

 

Both troupes of men turned towards the unearthly sound.

 

Up, high on the hill stood a tiny figure dressed in moss and morning dew, a cloak of midnight sky swirled angrily around it – the features obscured by the aureole of sun’s light shining behind it.  The shadowy figure raised a slender hand and pointed off to its right.

 

The MacChoate men’s gazes swung to their flank as the motion directed.

 

“Beware Fergussons!” the bean sìth screeched.  “Treachery!”

 

Every man stood frozen, transfixed by the vision before them.  Then, suddenly, the mists rose to envelope the figure and it was gone.

 

One of the Fergusson men cried, “A Daoine Shi’!!!”

 

Next, the air was rent with the terrified screams of the Fergusson men as they ran off as if accursed.

 

“Come, Paddy!” Josh said urgently as he brought his horse up next to his leader.  “Let us be gone!  There be demons here!”

 

MacChoate strained forward to see the figure standing on the ridge as the sunlight burned through the haze.  “Demons m' arse!” he cried suddenly as he put his heels to his horse and rode straight for the tiny figure on the top of the hill.

 

“Paddy!” Avery cried. “‘ave  ye gone daft, mon!”

 

But his leader continued on as if deaf to his plea.

 

It seemed like only a second later, Paddy returned, the fey creature draped unceremoniously across his saddle.

 

The MacChoate clan gave him a wide berth as their laird rode past them headed back towards Dichiollach Castle.

 

~~~

 

The heavy wooden doors met the great stonewalls of the hall with a resounding bang as Paddy kicked them open and strode angrily across the main room. Servants watched dumbfounded as their master carried a bundle over his shoulder and made for the stairs, taking them two at a time until he reached the second story landing. He entered his bedchambers and slammed the door shut.

 

Once safely inside his rooms, Paddy released his bundle to stand before the fire in the hearth.

 

Justin pushed the great cloud of his hair from his face and stared at the frightening figure before him.

 

Paddy stood, hands firmly planted on his hips, and regarded his young lover.  Face flushed and glowing from the wind of the ride, thick, glossy black hair tangled and flowing around him, the MacChoate felt his blood heat in his veins.

 

Then his anger took over.

 

Justin squawked in surprise as he was grabbed by his upper arms and lifted bodily off the floor. Paddy carried him over to the straight back chair in the center of the room and sat.  Suddenly, young Evers found himself staring at the fur coverlet on their bed, his body draped across his lover's hard thighs.  One large, heavy arm encircled his waist while a hand lifted the oversized shirt he wore, pulling down the hose and moving the length of tartan out of the way.

 

As soon as the cooler air touched Justin's naked bottom, he found his voice.

 

“Paddy!” he began, then screeched, “PADDY!” as a blaze of fire ignited across the rounded mounds of his ass.  Kicking gracelessly, Justin tried without success to avoid the swats that followed.  “Paddy, ow!  No, Paddy!  Wait!  Paddy!  Listen!” Justin panted, each word stopped by a firm, stinging slap to his heating backside.

 

Reaching back desperately, the young man tried to cover the area of attack, only to have his wrists caught and held in the small of his back by one meaty paw and the spanking continued with fervor.

 

“I can explain if you’ll let me!!” Justin whined as his pistoning legs were pinned between strong thighs.  “I was trying to save you!  PADDY!!”

 

MacChoate heard his lover’s voice as if from a distance, and watched dispassionately as the creamy, golden mounds of flesh beneath his hands blossomed red.

 

“In a dream!  I saw you die, Paddy!”  The smaller man's voice rose and broke in distressed pants.  “I came to save you!”

 

The calloused hand cracked against his bottom, not leaving an inch of flesh spared.  The punishing hand christened even the tender curve where bottom met thigh.

 

Justin couldn’t follow the angry string of Gaelic that flowed from his lover’s mouth as he twisted and turned and bucked to get away.

 

Finally, realizing there was no escape, the smaller man buried his face in the soft fur beneath his chin and began to cry.

 

Paddy felt the moment of surrender in the tiny body draped across his lap, but still he spanked, spanked until the sobbing became broken and frantic between pleas for him to halt.  Then, the big man felt the anger seep from him like water through a broken vessel.  And he stopped.

 

Justin was in agony. He felt as if red-hot coals had touched his bottom.  In his anguish, he hardly noticed the spanking had ceased . . . the tears did not.

 

Filled with regret at letting his anger rule his hand with the fey creature, MacChoate surged to his feet, taking the weeping figure from his lap, and enveloped it in his arms.

 

Justin immediately struggled against the embrace.  “Let me go!” he demanded between hiccupping sobs as he beat small fists against the massive chest before him.

 

Reluctantly, MacChoate unhanded him.  Justin stumbled back as step, but as his lover reached out to steady him, the smaller man danced gracefully away.

 

“No!” he snapped, batting at the large hands that had punished him only moments before. “Don’t you touch me!” he muttered, turning his back on the MacChoate.  Evers wrapped his arms around his body, his shoulders shaking with his sobs.

 

Paddy stood, rooted to the spot, torn with emotions.  He wanted to comfort his weeping lover, take him in his arms and soothe him, but the tenseness in the small back turned to him told the highlander such a move would be unwelcome now. And, when he thought of what could have happened on that ridge if the clan Fergusson had not fled in superstitious fear, he wanted to take Justin over his knees and spank him all over again.

 

Turning slowly, Paddy left the room and made his way downstairs.

 

~~

 

A fire blazed in the stone hearth, but its warmth did little to banish the chill that had settled in Paddy's chest.

 

The great hall was empty save one servant bringing food and drink to Avery and Joshua as they lounged at the high table.

 

From the looks on both their faces, they had heard what went on upstairs and did not approve.  Paddy approached them cautiously, throwing himself down in the head chair.

 

“Uisge beatha,” he snapped at the servant, who scurried off to do his bidding. After a moment of waiting in strained silence, he barked, “Say it!” at the two remaining men.

 

“Say what, Paddy?” Joshua asked, not looking up from his goblet.

 

“Say what is written on yer faces.”

 

“If there be something written there, ye surely can see ta read it,” Avery said sullenly.

 

“Ye disapprove.”

 

“We rode like demons ourselves ta get ‘ere, mon, thinking ye bewitched,” Josh told him laird.

 

“It took us a moment ta realize it was the wee one,” Avery confessed.  “’e saved our lives.”

 

“And ‘tis ‘ow ye replay ‘im?" Joshua turned hot eyes on his laird and friend.  “Ye beat the acharradh fer nigh onto ‘alf an hour, MacChoate!”

 

“T’was nae that long, Josh—”

 

“Just tell us ye dinnae leave the little thing upstairs broken and bleeding,” Avery said in a low voice.

 

“Is that what ye two creid o' me?” Paddy asked horrified.

 

“We heard his screaming,” Joshua told him sourly, “If it ‘adnae stopped soon, Paddy, we would ‘ave  ‘ad ta come up and stopped ye.”

 

Avery nodded.  “It sounded like ye were killing ‘im.”

 

The servant brought the goblet of whiskey and placed it forcefully down in front of his master.

 

The MacChoate looked up at the censure in quickly averted eyes.  “Is everyone in this castle angry with me?  Am I nae the laird ‘ere?” he thundered.

 

The servant exited the hall in haste.

 

“Nae one disputes that, Paddy.”

 

“So why are ye questioning m' judgement?”

 

“Ta beat the acharradh?  Ye could break in with one ‘and.”

 

“I dinnae beat ‘im, Josh,” Paddy said wearily.

 

“We ‘eard—”

 

“I did but warm ‘is arse –”

 

“Ye did more than warm it, Paddy,” Avery interrupted dryly.

 

MacChoate started to deny the truth of this statement when he thought back to the event itself.  “Aye,” he said, finally seeing what he had done clearly and ashamed of the memory.  “I did. Mauve!” he bellowed.

 

The large woman who’d served as his nurse appeared at his side.  She stood with her arms crossed, a disapproving frown on her face.

 

“Dinnae scold, Mauve.  I ken,” he held his hands up in surrender.  “Is duilich leam.”

 

“’Tisnae me ye should be talking ta,” she said.

 

“Take a tray up ta ‘im, Mauve,” he said softly, and, as she turned to leave, added, “And  ‘ave  some o' the men take ‘ot water up fer a bath, will ye?"

 

~~~

 

Several moments later, Mauve returned with the tray.

 

“’e dinnae want it, Paddy,” she said sadly.

 

“But ‘e ‘asnae ate since yestereve."

 

“’e says ‘e is nae hungry.”  She paused.  “And ‘e still weeps.”

 

The big man rose to his feet. “Gi’e it ta me.”  He took the tray.  “Did ‘e say nay ta the bath, too?”

 

“Nay.”

 

Paddy slowly ascended the stairs.

 

~~~

 

Justin heard the door open, but remained standing in the tub, his back turned to it.  From the lack of sound, he had a fairly good idea who stood there.

 

Paddy placed the tray on the table by the bed and warily approached his lover.

 

The light from the fire made the droplets of water glisten and sparkle on the golden skin.  Mesmerized, the highlander moved closer.  “Aillse,” he whispered only to be brought up short when his eyes travelled down the back and waist to rest on the rounded bottom and he saw the red and purple bruises.

 

The curse was old and vicious, spoken in a voice that made Justin jump and turn to face him.  Paddy saw the fear in those green eyes, the smaller man poised to flee.

 

Snagging the drying cloth from its place on a chair near the fire, MacChoate caught his sprite up in its length, wrapped him up and held him tight.

 

“Let me go!” Evers cried as he struggled against the bonds that held him, hissing when the cloth touched his butt.

 

Paddy only held him tighter, pressing his young lover's face against his chest as he rocked him. “Nae this time.”

 

“I don't want you to hold me!”

 

“I ken, abaisd, but I will nae let ye go.”

 

Paddy held on for dear life until he felt the fight slowly leech from Justin and felt him melt into tears against his chest.  “Dinnae cry, áilleagan,” he said as he carried the light burden to the bed and laid him on his side among the furs.

 

Taking the boar bristle brush from the table on his side of the bed, Paddy slid closer to the tightly curled figure and caught him when he tried to move away.

 

Slowly, very, very slowly, using strokes from scalp to root, he began brushing the tangles from the clean, black hair.  Taking his time, the action soothing both of them.

 

The tresses were dry and shone with their own light before he put the brush aside. Gathering the hair in his hands, the big man made quick work of braiding it, tying the end with a bit of crimson cloth.  During it all, Justin had sighed and turned onto his stomach, now Paddy thought, maybe he had fallen asleep.

 

Working the drying cloth from around him, the highlander bared his lover to his eyes.  Once again his heart skipped when he saw the bruises on the tender golden flesh.

 

“Ach, cion,” Paddy breathed, his voice cracking with emotion.  “What ‘ave  I done ta ya?”

 

“You hurt me,” came a soft reply.

 

Paddy started.  “Aye, that I ‘ave.”

 

Justin’s back remained turned.  “And I did nothing wrong.”

 

“Ye disobeyed me, abaisd.  Ye risked yer life by coming after me.”

 

“I had to come.  I saw you die.”

 

“Ye dinnae see what dinnae happen.”

 

“It happened, Paddy—”

 

MacChoate dismissed this with a grunt.  “In a dream—”

 

Justin did turn then, his eyes blazing.  “I saw you die, Paddy!” he hissed angrily.  “You think I could see that, dream or no, and not go to you?”

 

“And gotten yerself killed.”

 

“Or saved you!” he snapped, turning his back again.

 

The big man softened his tone.  “Ach, annsachd—”

 

“Go away, Paddy,” Justin said coldly.

 

“Nay,” the big man said as he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his lover’s bottom.

 

Justin twitched away on contact.  “That won’t work!”

 

MacChoate took the younger man and turned him, draping the smaller body across his chest.

 

“It won’t work, I tell you!” Justin squirmed to get away.

 

The highlander caught the small head between his hands and brought the face close to his.  “Forgive me, m’cridhe.”

 

Justin tried again to pull away.  “No!”

 

MacChoate covered the angry mouth with his own, recklessly thrusting his tongue into the dark, hot cavern of Justin’s mouth, seeking to mate it with the one eluding him.

 

Releasing them from the kiss, Paddy said hungrily, “Tell me ye love me.”

 

Justin shook his head.  “I want to go home.”

 

“Ye are home,” he said as he kissed him again.  “Tell me ye love me.”

 

“Not with my bottom flaming hot from a spanking I didn’t deserve.”

 

Paddy kissed the pouty lower lip.  “Tell me ye love me,” he coaxed softly.

 

“Béist,” Justin growled.

 

“Aye, acharradh, I am.  Bhur béist.”  He brought the mouth down and kissed it again, this time steadying Justin’s head with his hands. “Tell me ye love me,” the highlander demanded in a seductively deep voice.

 

“Promise not to spank me again,” the younger man insisted.

 

Now it was Paddy’s turn to shake his head.  “Promise ye willnae disobey me again,” he responded.

 

Justin’s forehead wrinkled in a frown.

 

The highlander smiled as he smoothed the creases with the tip of his finger and laughed. “’tisnae easy is it, aillse.  What I twill promise, ‘tis I will listen afore I act.”

 

“And calm down?”

 

MacChoate laughed.  “Aye, droch sióg, I twill try mightily.”

 

Justin pouted again as he thought over the bargain.  “And I will try to obey you.  But if you’re in danger, Paddy, I won’t promise not to come.”

 

“And I willnae promise ta nae take ye across m’ knees again.”

 

Justin’s frown returned.  “But, Paddy, it hurts.”

 

“A lot less than losing ye would.”

 

“Aye,” Justin whispered, smiling.  “I can agree with that since it’s exactly how I feel.”

 

MacChoate's mouth opened and closed several times.  The little fey had turned the tables and caught him in a silken web of his own making.  He opened his mouth to protest.

 

This time, it was Justin who initiated the gentling kiss.  “Tell me you love me,” he demanded upon releasing his highlander.

 

“Le uile mo cridhe.”

 

“Good!  I love you, too.”  Justin lowered his head to the curve of Paddy's neck.

 

~~~~~~

 

A score of bliss-filled days passed quickly for the impassioned couple, each day bringing them closer and closer together.  Justin’s obvious affection buffing out rough edges in Paddy, while the MacChoate’s adorations and attention bolstered Evers confidence, and lifted his self-esteem.  They were changing each other for the better.

 

“A spring fair, Paddy!”

 

The highlander lounged at his usual seat, nursing his tankard of bitter ale and trying to ignore the enthusiastic bouncing of his lover.

 

“Are you listening?” Justin asked, as he came to rest in front of the sulking Scot.

 

"Nay," Paddy grouched placing the cup on the table.

 

Justin reached out and took Paddy by his ears pulling him forward until they were nearly nose-to-nose.  “Have I done something wrong?” he asked sternly, scowling into the brooding face.

 

“Nay, if ye dinnae count trying ta dismember me!”  Paddy grabbed Justin and pulled him into his lap, kissing him soundly.

 

“Patrick MacChoate!”  Justin scolded, trying to slide from the hard lap.  “We are in the hall!”

 

But MacChoate would have none of it.  “Ye should ‘ave thought o' that afore ye attacked me, abaisd,” he rumbled as he slid his hand beneath the hem of the smaller man's shirt.

 

“All right! Paddy,” Justin soothed as he tried to wiggle out of reach of that maddening hand.  “Is duilich leam,” he said softly.  “But, you weren’t listening to me!”

 

“The spring fair,” Paddy said, nuzzling the succulent neck of his dark-haired captive.

 

“You were listening, bad man!” Justin jumped as the warm lips touched his flesh.  “I want to go.  Will you take me?”

 

Paddy stopped his ministrations.  “Ach, Justin. ‘tis too much ta ask o’ me!”

 

“It’s just a fair, Paddy!” young Evers panted as his lover’s hand found his nipple and teased it into a point.  “Please!  The children would love it.”

 

The torturous hand stilled again.  “Bairns!  Nay, Justin!”

 

“Please, m’ cridhe,” he whispered. "”I would be . . . grateful.”  The smaller man wiggled provocatively in the big lap as he leaned closer.

 

The highlander’s cock immediately hardened.  “Dinnae make promises—”

 

Justin took advantage of Paddy’s open mouth, pressing his own lips against it.  Drawing his fingers through the highlander’s thick locks, the younger man pressed in nearer, delving into the sweet cavern of that mouth until neither could breathe.

 

“It seems the acharradh went fishing again.”

 

Both broke apart at the sound of Joshua's voice.

 

“In his favorite place, too.”  Avery laughed before he asked.  “I wonder did he catch anything?”

 

Justin blushed bright red and squirmed in Paddy’s lap, burying his face in the crook of his neck.  “Did I, Paddy?” he whispered softly, so only his lover could hear.

 

MacChoate laughed aloud, startling everyone in the hall, and gave the slight figure that teased his erection with his desirable bottom a tight squeeze.  “Joshua, tell Mauve to get the children together.  I am taking us ta the spring fair.”  Standing, he tossed Justin up over his shoulder and headed for the stairs.  “After we take a wee nap.”

 

“The fair?”  The big man stared after them, dumbfounded.  “Did our laird just say he was going ta the spring fair?”

 

Avery couldn’t answer for the shock.

 

~~~

 

The MacChoate would never admit it out loud, but he was enjoying himself.  Seeing the fair through Justin’s eyes made it all new and beautiful.  The young man looked at everything with wonder and awe as if seeing it for the first time, when the highlander knew it not to be the case.  His acharradh had been to several fairs in his lifetime which Paddy repeatedly reminded his young lover. But not with him, Justin had said.  Soon the big man carried several wrapped packages from their adventure.

 

Suddenly, the highlander saw a piece of crimson and gold silk.  It reminded him of the Chinese emperors that Justin had spoken about in stories to the children gathered around the fire in the great hall.  Shoving his armload of packages into Avery’s already laden arms, MacChoate walked to the booth.

 

Fingering the fine length of softness, Paddy imagined a naked Justin laid out in their bed, reclining on its length, the firelight painting shadows on his secret places.  Beckoning Paddy to –

 

“MacChoate.”

 

The daydream burst like a soap bubble and Paddy turned towards the voice to find his wife, Mary, standing behind him.

 

“What are ye doing here?” he asked her, letting the anger he felt bleed through to his words.

 

She laughed, a high-pitched, coarse and grating sound that shredded one’s nerves. Paddy had always hated her laugh.

 

“You do not own the world, MacChoate.  Although, I’m sure you'd like to think so.  I came for the fair.  I should ask you the same question.  I thought you didn’t like these things."

 

MacChoate turned back to the merchant to purchase the length of cloth.  Turning back to Mary, he carefully folded the fabric and placed it in his tartan.  “I dinnae.”

 

“And shopping?”  She indicated the pocketed material.  “Don’t tell me you’ve changed, highlander.  Developed a heart?”  She looked at him with quiet speculation.  “There is something different,” she said softly as she ran questing fingers up a strong arm and across a firm chest.  “Interesting.”

 

“What do ye want, Mary?” the big man growled irritably as he removed himself from her touch.

 

At his tone, her face hardened to the one MacChoate knew.  “Nothing,” she snapped. “What could I possibly want from a border raider like yourself?”  She stormed away.

 

Paddy shook his head as he watched her depart, wondering how he could have stood the woman as long as he did.

 

Turning back, he went off in search of Justin and the rest of his small party.

 

He found Avery where he had left him, struggling with a small mountain of packages.

 

“’ere, mon.  Let me help ye.”

 

“Nae need, Paddy,” Avery said, moving away.  “I will take them ta the cart.”

 

Paddy laughed as his friend’s afflicted tone.  “Ye creid the acharradh has had enough excitement fer the day?”

 

“I hope,” the thin man said as he struggled to maintain his grip on the packages looking for all the world like a court jester juggling.

 

“Where is ‘e?” Paddy asked, trying not to laugh at the sight his second-in-command created.

 

“I thought ‘e was with ye.”

 

“Nay.  ‘e stood nae an arm’s length from ye when I placed the bundles in yer ‘ands.”

 

“No need ta panic.  ‘e cannae ‘ave  gone far.  I will put these in the cart and come back ta ‘elp ye look.”

 

A half hour later, Paddy had found Joshua and William, but the children and Justin were nowhere to be found.

 

MacChoate was beside himself with worry and anger.  “When I find ‘im, he will nae sit comfortable for a fortnight.”

 

“’e wouldnae purposely worry ye like this, Paddy,” Joshua reassured his laird.

 

Avery thought to ask, “Could ‘e ‘ave gotten lost?”

 

“We left Martin by the cart and I am certain ‘e knows where it is.  Any merchant could ‘elp them if they asked.”

 

“Ye creid something ‘as ‘appened to them?” William worried out loud.

 

Just then Meghan and Callie came running up, their hair in disarray, their clothing torn and dirty.

 

Paddy caught up the smallest girl who was crying.  “What ‘tis amiss, wee one?”

 

“They took Justin and Jamie,” Meghan said, more angry than afraid.  “They put grain sacks over their heads and carried them away.”

 

“They tried ta get us,” Callie sobbed, “but someone came and they ran away.”

 

Paddy fought the urge to shake the information from the her faster.  “They?  Who are ‘they’, child?”

 

“I dinnae know them, but I bóid they wore the Fergusson plaid.”

 

Handing the crying child into William’s hands, Paddy snarled, “Now he dies,” as he stalked towards his horse.

 

“We ride for Dichiollach Castle?” William asked.

 

Avery followed one step behind his laird.  “Aye, Paddy.  We can round up the men.”

 

“Ye cannae do this thing alone,” Josh told him as he also hurried to keep pace with the angry man.  “Let us ‘elp ye.”

 

By this time they had reached the cart and horses.  Their leader paused, resting his head on Rinceoir's flank.  “Aye,” he breathed, a feeling of helplessness washing over him. Shaking it off, the big highlander put his foot in the stirrup and swung up onto the warhorse’s back.  “Ride with me.  Keep up or I will leave ye behind,” he said as he touched his heels to the horse and left them in a heavy dust cloud.

 

~~~

 

Justin had kicked and screamed his outrage the entire uncomfortable ride.  Now he was deposited, none too gently, upon the floor and his hands untied.  Struggling, the young man worked the sack from his head.  Pushing aside the mass of hair that now covered his face, he looked up through the tangled strands.

 

“If you wore it like a man, seeing wouldn’t be a problem.”

 

Blinking several times in disbelief, Justin clamored to his feet.  “Loren,” he hissed angrily.  “What are you doing here?  What’s the meaning of all this?”

 

“‘tis that anyway ta greet your athair, buachaill?"

 

Justin looked around at the speaker.  A man, not as tall or broad as Paddy, dark and swarthy in complexion, though not unhandsome, looked back at him.

 

“Who are you?” young Evers demanded.

 

The man made a gracious bow.  “Andrew Fergusson, at yer service.”

 

“Why am I here?”

 

“Why, fer the ransom.”

 

“Ransom?  Who’d pay ransom for me?”  Cocking his head at his father.  “Him?” He laughed.  “Hardly.  This man wouldn’t give a shilling to get me back.”

 

“You keep a civil tongue in your mouth, or I’ll do it for you!” his father snapped.

 

“Do your worst, old man!  I’m not afraid of you any longer.”

 

Anger flashed hot across his features as the elder Evers took a step forward and backhanded his son across the face.  Justin staggered back, reeling from the blow, but recovered quickly, returning the punch in kind.

 

As soon as he recovered from the shock, his father’s face turned mottled shades of red. He took another step forward, Justin standing his ground, but Andrew stepped between them.

 

“We will nae get yer goods back if ye kill him, mon.”

 

Just then the smaller sack beside them started to move and Jamie emerged from it.  After looking about in bewilderment, he came to stand lean against Justin, seeking comfort.

 

“Why is the boy here?” Justin asked as he put his arm around the thin shoulders, drawing the child close against his side.

 

Andrew laughed.  “We’ll soon ‘ave Dichiollach Castle itself!”

 

“How so?” Loren Evers asked.

 

“Because, not only do we ‘ave the MacChoate’s oainjyr, we ‘ave his son,” Katherine said nastily from where she stood in the doorway to the great hall.

 

~~~

 

Once at Dichiollach his men had to restrain the highlander.

 

“Ye dinnae want ta wait fer his demands?” Avery asked, trying to reason with the man.

 

“I ken what ‘e wants.  ‘e wants break me.  Ta bleed me dry with a ransom, then kill them anyway.”  Paddy shook free of his man’s grasp.  “First, ’e wooed m’ wife away, now ‘e has m' eart and m' life.  The basdardd ‘as gone too far.”

 

~~~

 

“What makes you think this MacChoate will agree to these demands, Fergusson?” Loren Evers asked holding the piece of parchment as he paced back and forth in front of his son. “They’re outrageous.  They’ll break him financially.”

 

The younger Evers sat in a high-backed bench, holding Jamie’s head in his lap as he watched his father dispassionately.  “Because he loves me.”  He smiled down as the sleeping face in his lap.  “Loves us.”

 

“Be still!” his father snapped.  “I knew you would end this way.  Whoring from some man.  I don’t want to hear of your perversions with this barbarian.”

 

“But, father, he is the son you always wanted: tall and strong, finely made, cunning, resourceful, savage.  A warrior strong.”  Justin’s voice had taken on a lustful purr with each adjective spoken.

 

“And perverse enough he would take someone like you into his bed!” the elder Evers said in disgust.  “When he has a wife! A child.  A holy union sanctioned by the Church!”

 

Justin thrust his chin out towards the woman who stood across the room. “The woman’s a slut.”

 

“And what are you?” Mary screeched at him.

 

“A slut too, yes.  But only to him,” he sneered.  “I give anything to him.  But at least I’m faithful.”

 

“But ye arenae a woman,” Andrew told him with a smile.

 

“But he takes you like one, doesn’t he, Justin?” his father shouted, besides himself with disgust. “And you welcome it.”

 

“Aye,” Justin said softly, “very much.”

 

Blind with rage, Evers took the nearest sword in both hands.  Advancing on his son, he raised it over his head.  Justin bowed himself over the sleeping form of Paddy’s son trying to shield the boy as he waited to die.

 

Before that could happen, Andrew took a step forward and knocked the blade from Lauren’s grip.

 

“A dead man brings nae ransom, Evers,” he told the unbalanced man angrily.  “What if

‘e wants to see them before ‘e pays us?  Ye will ‘ave  plenty o’ time ta kill ‘im after we  ‘ave  the booty.”

 

Pulling Justin back up to a sitting position by his hair, Evers slapped him hard twice across the face until the young man saw stars.

 

“That’s enough, Evers,” Andrew shouted.  “I willnae tell ye again.”

 

~~~

 

Later, when the hall had emptied, Andrew brought his prisoners two cups of watered wine, a bowl of broth and loaf of bread.  He placed them on the bench by Justin's hips.

 

He sat and watched while Justin fed Jamie, then tried to feed himself, winching from cut and bleeding lip.

 

“I twill keep ‘im from ye,” he told Justin softly, reaching out to push hair back from the young man’s face.

 

“Don't bother,” Justin told him as he ducked his head away.  “I’m used to it.”

 

“‘tis a shame ta mar such beauty.”

 

Justin glanced up in surprise.

 

“I ken what MacChoate sees in ye.  Ye should ‘ave been a woman.”

 

“But I’m not.”

 

Andrew touched the bruise on Justin's cheek.  “More ‘tis the pity.”

 

“Becoming catamite, Andrew?”

 

“Mary,” Andrew said, calmly dropping his hand from his captive.  “How long ‘ave ye been there?”

 

“I can overlook your trysts with the servants, Andrew, but I’ll not share you with a man.”

 

“I dinnae ask ye ta.”

 

“Are you really interested?  Or is it just because ‘e belongs to Paddy?”

 

Andrew stood and turned, gracing her with a smile.  “I admit, I am partial ta taking possessions of the MacChoate."

 

“Then t’is sport ta ye?”

 

"I ‘ave ‘ated MacChoate since we were bairns.”

 

“Ye said ye loved me!”

 

Andrew snorted.  “I said what I needed ta say ta get ye away.  I thought ‘e cared fer ye. That losing ye would ‘urt him.  Little did I ken ‘e would be well-rid o' ye."

 

“What?”

 

“Get gone from m’ sight, woman, and ‘ope that I dinnae pay ‘im ‘alf m’ share ta take ye back.”

 

Mary fled the hall mortified.

 

~~~

 

 

The next morning, as Andrew escorted his captives from their small chamber to breakfast, a guard barged into the hall.

 

“’e is at the gate,” the man told Andrew.

 

“I know ‘e dinnae come alone,” Fergusson told the man.  “Ye wait.  When we ‘ave all we are asking fer, ye put an arrow through ‘is black heart.”

 

Mary touched his arm.  “Ye cannae kill ‘im like that, Andrew.”

 

He snatched away.  "I can kill ‘im any way I like!” he snarled.  “I wouldnae creid ye cared Mary, since ‘is death will free ye o’ ‘im once and fer all.”

 

“I dinnae care aboot the MacChoate, Andrew.  I only want us ta be tagether, but I couldnae be married ta a coward.  Ta kill ‘im like this would be weak-willed.  Less than ‘onorable ye understand that do ye nae?”

 

“Who said I would marry ye, Mary MacChoate?” he said, then pushed her away.  “I ‘ave ‘ad enough o' yer Sassenach ways, woman!  ‘onor willnae fill m' coffers.  And this way, I willnae ‘ave ta marry ye ta gain the MacChoate’s fortune."

 

She held her face, tears coming to her eyes.  “Ye said ye loved me.”

 

“Ye ‘ave the morals o’ a bitch in ‘eat.  I willnae ‘ave that in a wife.”

 

“At least kill ‘im in a fair fight.  Yer name will mean nothing if you do this.  Where is yer pride?"

 

“I will ‘ave gold enough to salve any wounds to m’ pride,” he laughed in her face, then looked over the parapet.  “Aye, MacChoate?” he yelled down.  “What brings ye fer a visit to m’ ‘umble ‘ome?”

 

Paddy squinted up to face his adversary.  “Let them go!” he demanded.

 

“Aye.  When ye bring me all ye stole from me.”

 

“I stole nae a thing!”

 

“The booty from the caravan.”

 

“Ye ran away from it!  So intent ta save yer sorry neck, ye left it scattered aboot the ground.”

 

Andrew’s face flushed a deep shade of red.  “The caravan and all the gold ye  ‘ave , MacChoate!  Empty yer coffers if ye want ta see yer leaids alive again."

 

“And if I gi’e yer what yer want, ‘ow am I to feed m’ castle?” the MacChoate called out.

 

“I dinnae care!  Make yer choice and make it now, o’ I send their bodies over the side.”

 

The laird of Dichiollach castle seemed to consider his options.  “I knew that was what ye wanted, cur.”  Paddy gestured behind him.  “I brought it with me.”

 

Fergusson’s eyes grew round when he saw the heavily burdened carts lined up behind the MacChoate.  By the saints!  More wealth than he had dreamed of lay stretch out before his eyes.

 

“Bring them out, unharmed, and ye can ‘ave it all.”

 

“Nay.  I will release them when ye give me the ransom.”

 

“I dinnae trust ye, Fergusson.”

 

The man on the wall only laughed.  “Ye dinnae ‘ave a choice.”

 

~~

 

Reluctantly, Paddy released the ransom into Andrew's hands.

 

Greed sent the man racing down the stairs into the bailey, followed closely by an equally as greedy Loren Evers.

 

“’e twill kill us now,” Jamie said softly, watching the men tear through the hall.

 

“The child is right.”

 

Both turned to Mary.

 

“What do you care?” Justin asked her, clutching the child tighter to him.

 

“I dinnae, but if ‘e does this thing, there is no ‘ope fer our future.  Come wi’ me."

 

“Why should we trust you?  You know he won't thank you for this.”

 

“When it is over, ‘e twill,” Mary said quietly, hoping her words were true.

 

~~

 

Outside, the two men near dove into the carts, Evers eyes glistening with tears.

 

“I’m saved,” he whispered fingering his merchandise.  “And, at last, I’ll be set of that woman’s son.”

 

“Nay.  I creid I twill keep ‘im fer awhile, Evers.”

 

The older man turned.  “You’re jesting?” he asked in shock.

 

“Nay,” Andrew smiled.

 

“But you said I could kill him.”

 

“I also said we would share the ransom.”  The Fergusson leaned forward.  “I lied aboot that, too.”

 

Loren felt a piercing pain in his chest and he looked down to see red blossoming on his shirt and the hilt of a blade protruding like the stem of some grotesque flower.

 

Suddenly, the ransom shifted, rising to reveal Joshua, Avery and several men hidden beneath it.

 

“The MacChoate!” the Avery cried as he leaped to the ground.  The others behind him raced to open the gates, fighting stunned guards as they went.  Soon, fierce clansmen dressed in MacChoate plaids swarmed throughout the castle.

 

Paddy was the first through the opened gate.  Stopping in the center of the bailey, he turned to face his enemy.

 

Andrew stood, frozen to the spot, one hand on a cart.  “‘tis mine, MacChoate.  Ransom paid.  Where is yer ‘onor?”

 

“M’ honor’s unbroken, Fergusson,” he said, drawing his sword.  “Where are Justin and m’ son?”

 

“Ye willnae see them again if ye ‘arm me.”

 

Above them on the parapets, Mary, Justin and Jamie looked down to see the fighting.

 

“Paddy!” Justin screamed, recognizing the large figure in the bailey.

 

“Nay!  ‘e will kill Andrew!” Mary said in horror and picked up a discarded crossbow from the wall. She clumsily raised it to her shoulder, aiming it at Paddy’s back.

 

“No!”  Justin lunged for her, knocking her off balance and both began to struggle for possession of the weapon.

 

Below, Fergusson blocked the powerful downward swing of Paddy’s claymore with his own, the sound echoing off the stonewall of the courtyard, the force of the blow reverberating up his arm.

 

Pushing back from his opponent, Andrew swung with all his might, only to have his sword deflected by a parry from MacChoate.  Both men danced away, circling each other warily.

 

“Take them, MacChoate.  Take them and leave the ransom.  Go in peace, ye ‘ave m’ word.”

 

“Yer word means less than nothing ta me, Fergusson.  T’is ta the death.”  He swung again.

 

Andrew barely deflected it this time, his wrist aching from the contact.  “It isnae worth it, mon!” he said, retreating a little.

 

“T’is ta me,” Paddy told him as he followed.

 

“Ye willnae kill me, Paddy,” Andrew said with confidence.

 

“Aye, nae much, Andrew.”

 

Abruptly, there was a scream from above them.  Up on the parapets, two figures watched as a third fell to its death.

 

Paddy’s heart froze in his chest as he gazed down at the crumpled form, terrified at what he would see there.

 

Mary Stout MacChoate lay on the courtyard stones in a crumbled, bloody heap.

 

“Paddy!” Justin called down and waved.  “We are fine!”

 

The highlander waved back before he turned again to his adversary.

 

“Take the gold and all, MacChoate,” Fergusson said, lowering his sword.  “Leave me m’ life," he said, spreading his arms wide.  “On m’ honor, ye and yers are free ta go.”

 

MacChoate glanced back up at his lover and his son on the walls as he thought over the promise.

 

Just then, Fergusson made for his dagger.

 

Paddy spun, raising his claymore high enough to pierce his enemy’s chest.

 

A look of bewilderment and surprise crossed Fergusson’s face.  He glanced up at his enemy.

 

“Ye shouldnae ‘ave promised on yer honor, Fergusson,” Paddy told him as he turned the blade.  “Since I ken ye ‘ave nae any.”

 

~~

 

“Paddy!” Justin called as he threw himself into the strong arms held wide for him.

 

MacChoate crushed the smaller figure to him, kissing the golden column of neck, weeping openly.  Then he set Justin aside to kneel before the child.

 

“’ow are ye?  Well?” he asked softly as he hugged the little boy gently.

 

When his father released him, Jamie nodded.  “Justin was wi’ me, da,” Jamie leaned forward to whisper, “Justin’s athair beat him.”

 

The highlander looked up into his young love’s battered face.  “Where is he?”

 

“Here, Paddy,” Joshua called.

 

The big man walked over to the cart.  The elder Evers lay, a makeshift bandage pressed against the bleeding wound.

 

“Will I live?” the older man whispered.

 

Paddy looked up at his second-in-command.

 

Joshua shrugged.  “’e might, with a lot o’ care.  ‘e willnae get it ‘ere.”

 

Both men turned to Justin.

 

“What?” he asked, eyes wide at the question in their eyes.

 

“T’is up to you, acharradh,” Paddy told him tenderly.

 

Justin frowned.  “Me?  Why?  It’s your castle.”

 

“It’s your athair.  And it’s nae m’ castle more than ‘tis yer ‘ome, droch sióg,” the highlander told him sternly.

 

Young Evers’ frown deepened. He crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head as he watched his lover.  Finally, the smaller man threw his hands up in the air in surrender. “All right, MacChoate.  Bring him.”

 

Patrick smiled at him as he fetched Rinceoir.

 

After putting Jamie up in front of Joshua, the highlander swung up on the mighty warhorse, reached down and plucked the smaller man from the ground.

 

Settling Justin between his thighs, he put his heels to Rinceoir and they surged ahead.

 

After a few moments of riding in silence, Justin said softly, “You could’ve told me Jamie was your son.”  The strong arms encircling him tightened.

 

“I thought ye knew.  I dinnae make it a secret,” Paddy said, leaning down close to his lover’s ear.

 

Justin stayed silent a moment more.  “Is Mary his mother?”

 

MacChoate graced that statement with a sharp bark of laughter.  “Ach, mon.  Nay!  ‘is mathair died when he was born.”

 

Relaxing back against the broad chest behind him, Justin watched the scenery for about a mile before asking tentatively:  “What will we do with my father when he’s well?"

 

Paddy cleared his throat.  “I creid, gi'e him half the caravan and send him home.”

 

Justin turned around in the saddle to look up at his highlander.  “Half?!” he asked as if he thought the man had gone mad.

 

MacChoate smiled down at the small face.  “Ye dinnae creid that’s fair?”

 

Justin turned back around to face front.  “No,” he said sharply.  “He doesn’t deserve a farthing!”  Then fell silence again.  After several long moments, said, “A third.  Maybe.”"

 

The highlander laughed again.  “Heartless man,” the highlander admonished, his voice teasing.

 

Evers ducked his head, then said softly, “Well, I have to bring something to this bond, don’t I?  Consider it a . . . dowry.” He turned, gracing Paddy with a shy smile.

 

The gesture made the MacChoate laugh heartily.  “Well, since ye put it that way, t’is a third, leannan.  T’is a third.”  And he lowered his head to kiss his young love, sealing the bond.

 

 

 

 

abaisd = brat

acharradh = sprite

ailleagan = darling

aillse = fairy

aimlisg = mischief

annaschd = best beloved

béist = beast

barbartha = barbaric

basdardd = bastard

beanag = little woman

blasda = delicious

bleidell =

boc = he goat, roe buck

bóid = think

boiteag = maggot

buachar = shit

buachaill = boy

cion = want, desire, esteem, love

ci dhomh fhéin an sgian = let me have the knife

cluain nábaidh = mud dweller

creid = believe

cridhe = heart

daoine shi' = demon

déan dhomh = do [it] for me

dichiollach = endeavoring

droch = bad

garrach = greedy, glutton

Gaidheal = Highlander

is duilich leam = I'm sorry

athair = father

ken = know

leannan = sweetheart

leaid = lad

madra = dog

mo = my

stail = stallion

oainjyr = whore

sióg = elf

suiteas = sweet

tuig = understand

uisge beatha = whiskey

 

scinn sé leis = he scurried off;

T'anam an Diabhal - Soul to the Devil

Go dtachta an diabhal thú! (May the devil choke you)

Focáil leat! (F**k off)

Téigh trasna ort féin! (Go across yourself, i.e., go f**k yourself)

Damnú ort! (Damnation on you)

Loscadh is dó ort! (Scorching and burning on you)

Múchadh is bá ort! (Smothering and drowning on you)

Marbhfháisc ort! (A shroud on you)

with the tail between the legs     gu gealtach

le uile mo cridhe

Scots Slang

 

brat: get

tomboy: gilpie

tough female: randie

tough kid: keelie (male)

urchin: gorblin

 

 

Gaelic Slang

 

brat: sotaire

tough kid: bithiúnach

urchin: garlach